Except My Life ON HIATUS
by SolitaryMovement
Summary: This is for Vaako fans, but it's eventual. Sorry, I like building. A girl comes for revenge and then...things change. There is a plan in motion and she intends to follow through with it. The first two chapters are HORRIBLE, but I promise it gets better!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot and the chick...that I have yet to name...

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers for The Chronicles of Riddick maybe...I'm not quite sure yet.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance --romance is also eventual

Title: Except My Life --will definitely change because I don't like that title very much. Help  
from readers welcomed!

Status: In progress

Prologue

"Look around you.  
Every Necromonger here before you,  
Every one of the Legion Vast that just swept aside your defenses in one night...was once like you.  
Fought as feebly as you.  
Every Necromonger that lives today...is a convert."

She grins at the back of the crowd. Silently laughing at the prospect and at the people. Most of all she was laughing at the Lord Marshal. A foolish faith she thinks. She is hidden well at the edge of the group, her small, lithe, figure making her slight in the mass of people. She is a quiet, smirking cat.

"We all began as something else!  
It was hard for me to accept, too, when I first heard these words.  
But I changed.  
I let them take away my pain. Just as you will change...when you realize that the threshold to the UnderVerse will be crossed…only by those who have embraced the Necromonger faith.  
For those of you who will right now...drop to your knees and ask to be purified."

She stays standing, the smirk dissipates to a small smile. She watches as all fall to their knees in fear and submission. She is not one for easy submission.

A dark beauty of a man steps before her. His skin is porcelain pale, but the rest of him is dark. His eyes, his hair, and his aura. "You only have one opportunity. Take it. Bow to the Lord Marshal."

Her face takes on an almost comical astonished look. "Bow? Me? Oh, no, no, no. One of my being is not made to bow, no, not bow, not I, Sir." And then she grins, very catlike. "I came here to play." She begins a sensual dance in her spot to music only allowed to her ears. She sways and her hands moves along her body, "Oh, yes, I came to play out a dramatic script. Fabulous and tragic. Would you like to play with me, or..." Her eyes leave those of the beautiful man to stare at one of the commanding soldiers who had been on the streets. "...him? Would he play with me?" She begins to sway from her place, edging slightly towards the other soldier. "Let me play with my pretty sharp toys? Slicing and dicing away until no end..." the girl giggles, "and then...there shall be punishment at the end." The catlike grin instantly morphs into the angry snarl of a lion. "A punishment for the death of kin!"

The girl makes a great lunge from her standing point towards the lowly soldier. Magnificently crafted blades of no real known design appear from seemingly no where. She takes the man off guard, slicing his throat open, spraying herself with fresh blood. However, his death does not stop there. She violates and mutilates the body with her wondorous weapons. And as she promised, at the end there was a body no more, sliced, diced, and punished until it was only several masses of lumpy flesh and gore. The girl stands up stiffly, her back rimrod straight. Her expression steely. "This is the price that everyone pays for harming those under my charge," she growls and turns away from the scene. "I take my leave and may what ever god you pray to grant you luck because if I am met with resistance, then there shall be promotions from half deaths to full death," she seeths as she makes her way towards the door.

"Stop her!" a loud authoritive voice rings out. "Do not let her leave!"

With a growl the girl whirls around to face the voice, to be met with the Lord Marshal himself coming up to her. He had halted his men from interfering with her query earlier with a wave of his hand. "Resistance?" she hisses in warning.

The Lord Marshal stands before the girl, "In our faith, you keep what you kill. Take a place in my court."

The girl gives a mocking scowl, "The half man's offer sounds pleasing to only a mouse. One must be a god before demanding of me."

The man's eye twitches in annoyance, his smirk becomes grim. "Many could consider me a god."

"Many is not this one," the girl's snarl slowly transofrms into smirk of delight, she has found a game of banter with this man.

"This is a unique choice made just for your kind."

"And again, such an offer would only be elected by a rodent."

"Then you choose death?"

"Death? Why, death? Of course, I'll choose death, but death is very broad, Sir," she inclines her head in mock respect. "Death could be mine or yours. Death could be that of your men. Death is such a trivial word. You yourself claim that you have achieved the greatness of the UnderVerse, how is it that the UnderVerse is not just a Hades? A place for the dead? Perhaps a true god is there ruling over your UnderVerse. Perhaps you a servant to him. Yes, yes, death is trivial and your claims can be speculated." The girl grins catishly. At the sight of the Lord Marshal's tightening jaw the girl's grin widens. "Oh, tis a game, tis a game, Sir. I jest. Make you don't burst a vein at my playful words. Pretty words are all they are. And where shall I be if I so kindly accept your mousy proposal?"

The Lord Marshal's eyes narrow slightly, but he lights into a calmer mirth at the indication that the girl means no harm. "One among my ranks. A commander."

The girl gives a pouty frown. "A commander? Tis a poor tender, aye, a poor tender. I am not made for battles."

"Your display speaks otherwise."

"Nay, my display did not." The girl leans forward as if to tell a secret. "I am a silencer, not a soldier," she whispers loudly. She steps back and giggles.

Understanding meets the Lord Marshal's eyes. "Tis an assault when you refuse such a high position."

"I am a silencer, not made to be a solider. Such a place would not suit me. I am a made secret." She holds her finger to her lips, "A secret."

The Lord Marshal nods. "Take her before the Quasidead! We shall see. Come, my dear. Go with Vaako and after, we shall speak more." The girl inclines her head with great mirth.

Vaako takes the man's place as he leaves her behind to Vaako's care. Vaako gestures with his gun towards a door. "Come," he commands darkly.

The girl quirks an eyebrow, ready to disobey the command, but thought otherwise of it. She does not feel the need to anger the beautiful being even more. He is one she would look for later. A small nod and she follows the mass of Necromonger soldiers around her.

A/N: This is not my first fic...in general. This is however, my first movie fic. I'm not gonna ask you to be nice, in fact, I'm gonna ask you to be brutally honest. Give me some sort of feedback, I gotta work with something. Yes, I know that it's kinda following by the scene where Riddick is at the conversion speech to the Quasidead. However! It will not happen like Riddick, in fact...I think this might be the only part that REALLY resembles the movie...possibly. We'll see what happens. :D

Another important thing. "Tis an assault when you refuse such a high position." The word "assault" is the right word. I didn't mean to try to spell "insult". I know the difference, yes, but it has a bit of a shakespearean hint to it. The Lord Marshal meant that it was an assault to his honor, reputation, dignity, and so on. He doesn't like having his "kind gesture" thrown back in his face as if it were garbage.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot and the chick...that I have yet to name...oh! And certain parts of the dialogue don't belong to me, but I will clarify that within the chapter.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers for The Chronicles of Riddick maybe...I'm not quite sure yet.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance --romance is also eventual

Title: Except My Life --will definitely change because I don't like that title very much. Help from readers welcomed!

Status: In progress

A/N: I have only seen "The Chronicles of Riddick", so bear with me AND I have no idea what that other furyan's name is other than "purifier" according to the cast list, so I'm just going to stick with "Head Purifier" because it fits nicely if you ask me, after all...he's the only purifier to talk through out the whole entire movie. If you have any info...it's helpful, please share...I will love you for it...in a nonpervert/stalkerish way...yeah, thanks.

Chapter 1

And so that had been a week ago. The girl became loyal to the Lord of the Necromonger faith, though she refused the directness of the conversion adamantly, she had been forced. Now twin scars marr the milky pale flesh of her throat, much to her agitation. Though it is a mystery why the Quasidead had little effect on the girl and could not penetrate her mind farther than her surface thoughts, people gave little thought to it. The Lord Marshal saw no threat in her, so the rest of the masses followed suit. Her actions in themselves kept any suspicion at bay for the way she did nothing but indicate that she was a faithful Necromonger. She never spoke out against the Lord Marshal or another high ranked Necromonger. She found simple pleasures in taunting the lower soldiers and keeping quietly to herself. She never did anymore than mock and provide artistically drawn sarcasm. She didn't really have a mind for much else.

One could often find her in the Lord's presence lounging about like a lazy cat, with the Head Purifier following him about like an eager puppy, or poking fun at Vaako like a much too bored fox aiming for fun in mischief. Today finds her at the Head Purifier's side in one of the many studies and libraries of the Necromonger community. Watching him with careful, glittering eyes as he examines an awefully large and menacing looking book. With a sudden spir of inspiration the girl exclaims, "My honourable lord, I will take my leave of you."The Head Purifier turns his attention to her with an odd look in his eyes and face, about to excuse her with a nod of his head when the girl grins cattily. She hops to the spot across from her original and turns around to face it. And as if speaking to a shadow of her own persona, she recites with full costume. "You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal-except my life, except my life, EXCEPT MY LIFE." A pause and the girl bursts out laughing.

The Head Purifier merely quirks his brow, somewhat accustomed to her odd tendencies. "Are you merry, Morrien." He turns back to his book, absently dismissing her in his mind's eyes.

To which the girl only laughs harder. She manages to gasp out, "Who, I?"

"Yes, Morrien. Who else would I be speaking to?" he replies without looking up.

The girl continues to bluster in hysteria. She finally rights herself enough to say, "O God, you're only a jigmaker. What should a man do but be merry? For, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours." The girl falls back into her roars of giggles and sniggers.

This time the Head Purifier does look up and with a countenance that expresses his total doubt in her sanity. Though in a real conversation he could argue that her sanity was not all there to begin with. "Do I really want to understand the workings within that mind of yours, Morrien?" Morrien, a name that the Head Purifier bestowed on her himself when he discovered that she had no name for herself. He was the first she saw after the trial with the Quasidead. She spoke to him and he presented to her this name.

"Oh, no, sir, no! You would not, but if you ask for an explanation I will give," Morrien giggles.

The man sighs in defeat, "An explanation then."

Morrien's laughter instantly quiets and she smiles dreamily. "Thou art a scholar, or so it seems as you sit there reading your godly text. Reminded me of once when I studied of a scholar who wrote tragedies. Those lines I just recited had been of that scholar's work. William Shakespeare his name was and within his story of "Hamlet"! My lord, you had unintentionally recited words of the same play. "You are merry." And so I found hilarity in it and recited of more lines. Quite amusing once one grasps the concept."

The Head Purifier nods slowly, his eyes returns to his book, but he does not read it. He is in thought. "Also thou art a scholar, to be educated in the past."

Morrien perks at this mentioning, "Does my lord mean familiarity with this subject?"

"Yes, I had once read of this William Shakespeare. A dead man of a dead planet called Earth. It is rather incredible that his work has lived through the millenia. And even more incredible of how it has lived." The scholar of Morrien's affections faces her once more. "In your mind, Morrien. How did you come across such bloodless text?"

Morrien's smile transforms into that of true happiness. One of her most favorite subjects coming to light in a conversation with an educated being. "I am educated, sir. Very so, I was not always a silencer. I had once been an eager student. My mother, my father, my teacher, my brother, my life I had. In the earlier years of this life, I was educated and even after that life became breathless I was educated. A favor I could not part with. Some was rather useful as a silencer." Morrien drifts toward the man more. She seats herself at his feet and leans agains his thigh, staring back up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Mmm...I have almost forgotten what it was before I became a silencer. I see no faces in my past, only a small smudge that is a presence. I remember words best. That history and literature I had been taught. Even the reason why I became I silencer I can remember."

The Head Purifier sets his hands comfortable upon the book he had been reading, turning his full attention onto Morrien. "And this reason was?"

Morrien smirks cattishly, holding her finger to her lips, "A secret," she whispers. "A silencer is a secret. A secret you shall not utter, yes?"

His lips twitch into a slight smile. "Yes, A secret I shall not utter."

She returns to her small dreamy smile, "Silencers are needed in this plane of existance. No matter what, there must be silencers. Do you know how silencers are made, sir?"

"No..."

"Through blood. Bloodshed of the innocent and unworthy. My life was innocent and unworthy. It was bloody. It was the perfect price. You know, your lord and Necromongers make many silencers." Morrien smirks, but it soon falls back into the dreamy smile. "However, it wasn't your lord or Necromongers who made me a silencer. It was another being completely. A being who needed a silencer of his own to control. You see, there is a type of being that each silencer is. There is the vengeful, the submissive, the plotters, and the artificial. The vengeful are the types that the Necromongers make. Their life is terminated and they seek a new meaning in life, often vengeance within the body of a silencer. The submissive are those who fear fear itself. A mere, cowardly fear and follow orders like an artificial. An artificial is not even a being. It becomes a blank shell soldier for the commanding. The plotters are intelligent. They are not motivated by vengeance, but in themselves. Motivated in making for themselves. That is the silencer I am and partially was. I was an artificial more than a plotter at the beginning.

"A woman came for me. She slaughtered my entire life before my eyes. She took me in along with several other female peers. She created a training camp. Girls would be made killers. Wonderful killers who would then be set up against each other. Finally, only one stands...me. She wanted to use me, but I became a plotter. You see, I first became an artificial to escape the hounds of hell, but I saw a new light and became a plotter. So I was patient. I waited. Finally, I was one and escaped. Motivated for only myself. I found my way and a charge fell unto my lap. She was beautiful." Morrien's dreamy smile becomes larger. Her eye glaze over for happy memories. The smile falters, but returns. So lost in her story, Morrien continues, not caring that she has already answered the question of how silencers are made. She only wants her story heard, finally acknowledged, known to a certain sense. Closure and she would find it with his man.

"The utter radiance she was filled me with a new life. She became my life. A child could do such a thing to many a kind of killers. She was like my own flesh and blood as if she came from my womb. I protected her, I kept her, I loved her as much as I could..." Morrien trails off for a moment, staring off into space before her eyes dart back up to stare at him. Her eyes narrow into a slight glare, "and then you came. The Necromongers...she was then dashed out of life as easily as one swipes a pen across an undesired word or statement. So easily...I had almost forgotten how easily for which I cared for could be taken away. I almost didn't realize that I would feel deeply disturbed when she did cease to exist. I knew in some deep crevice of my being that many children don't live long in this age, but I had not been prepared. I stood there for possibly ten minutes, though it seemed like ten hours. I decided that I would avenge her death for her dignity and then no longer allow myself to become too enarmored in any other thing or being of the kind. And so I accomplished what I set out to do." Morrien falls silent, once again lost in the space of nothingness.

"What made you accept the Lord Marshal's offer?" the Head Purifier asks, although he believes he already knows the answer.

Morrien smiles grimly, "I had nothing to live for. I also didn't have anywhere to go after that. I did not like the empty time I spent by myself before I had Her. I needed a place. Every silencer needs a dictator and every dictator needs a silencer." Morrien smirks at the last phrase. "A secret police if you will."

The man above her smiles slightly, "Much like Adolf Hitler or Benito Mussolini?"

Morrien smirks, "Not so much Hitler, but very much Mussolini." She looks up and smiles brightly at the man, "Ah, the educated priestly man knows his Earthian history. Would he know pop culture as well?" Morrien chuckles, her eyes shining delightfully.

The Head Purifier chuckles good naturedly, "Be gone with you. Go along and play with someone else. Not everyone has the time of day to entertain you, Mistress Feline." An tender term for her obvious catlike qualities.

Morrien stands so that she can pout down playfully at the Head Purifier, "Oh, the poor sir, so attached to his books that he would not entertain his love with fondness."

The Head Purifier laughs openly, "No love for you, Mistress. Go then, I have much to do." He pats her rump, urging her along like a child.

Morrien dances towards the door calling behind her, "Ah, no love for the mistress and all too much love for his books! To holy matrimony with them then! I shall tell the Lord Marshal, maybe he would be your minister of the Holy Necromonger Chapel!" She gives a shriek and giggles as a rather large and heavy book hits the door frame, barely missing her head.

/break/

Morrien sways to the silent music in her head as she paces along the many corridors of the Necromonger base. A few twirls and leaps and she finds herself within the throne room...the empty throne room. Finding no interest in such a space, she resumes her lovely body pattern. "Swim, swim, swim. Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly. So many things lost. So many things lost."

"Talking to yourself again?" an arrogant, grating, female voice calls down to her from the upper level as she is makes it to the center of the room.

She scowls inwardly and her nose scrunches up in disdain. She whirls around to meet the woman of her dreams, torture dreams that is. Oh, how she fancies the idea of invoking the gods' wrath upon the woman. Morrien pulls on an obvious false smile. "Dame Vaako!" she calls out in false excitement with underlining despite. "What brings thy lady to this humble servant of faith?"

Dame Vaako chuckles humorlessly. "To you? Nothing. To this place...I felt an inclination to wonder the area. I had a foreboding feeling that something may come of this visit," she replies as she walks towards the staircase that descends to the floor of the throne room."

Morrien forces a grin. "Milady is too divine. Surely a dame such as yourself (A/N: pun intended) would have much more expensive hankerings upon her thoughts."

Dame Vaako responds with a sarcastic sneer. "And what would bring you here?"

"My pretty words about the palace is not enough? No, I come and go like the wind. There is little need for a silencer at this particular time. I am free to do as I please."

"Not to do as you please. You have limits, girl."

Morrien cocks her head to the side, taking this as a challenge. "Limits, Madam, I do have. Do as I please I am allowed for nothing else pleases me more than offing the Lord Marshal himself," Morrien growls sarcastically.

"Shall I take that as a confession, Morrien?" a familiar, very confident, authorative, male voice sounds from behind her, causing her to perk up straight from her slightly threatened, stalking demeanor.

Morrien whirls around with a delighted catty smile. "Oh, by the heavens, my lord! Shall that be a threat to you? No man is capable of ending your life. What makes this lowly silencer able?" Morrien striddles up towards the Lord Marshal. She leans in, giving an illusion that she is touching him, but is just barely. She stares up at him with adoration. "So what says you, my lord?"

The Lord Marshal gives a slight smirk at Morrien's act. An act that screams of false yet true childish innocence. "What says I? No man is capable of ending my life, yes, but you are no man," the Lord Marshal chuckles. "But, no, of course not, my dear girl. You haven't the bone in you."

Morrien's eyes gleam, "You are so certain, my lord?" Her smile takes on as a lioness's mischievious smirk.

The Lord Marshal pats her head absently, dismissing the smirk entirely. "Very." Morrien yowls like a playful kitten when caught and swats his armored hand away. The Lord Marshal merely smirks in amusement. "What are you doing here to the Dame Vaako, Morrien?"

Morrien loses her childish innocence and replaces it with fresh cheekiness. "Doing? Am I accused? Not I, dear sir. I have done nothing to be found accused. A mere sway of my pretty words and a smart remark for the lady's undeniably lovable manner." The "lovable" in Morrien's speech comes out openly sarcastic.

The Lord Marshal quirks his eyebrow at Dame Vaako, who in return stares pass him at Morrien with utter disbelief. Morrien answers with a cute smile. The Lord Marshal glances between the two defiant females and finally decides that a confrontation would be best done without his presence and at another time. "Dame Vaako, I advise that you show some care to our young silencer. You are not above her...yet." The "yet" is merely a ploy to appease the woman for now. A deceit that works wondrously.

Dame Vaako presents a feminine bows, "Yes, my lord. I take my leave of you." She turns and leaves.

"You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal-except my life, except my life, except my life," Morrien says quietly, so that Dame Vaako cannot hear her as she departs. Morrien soon falls into a fit of giggles at her own humor.

"What is it that you find so laughable, Morrien?" the Lord Marshal inquires, confused, but regal all the same.

Morrien giggles even harder at the sight of the Lord Marshal trying to be dignifying while so clearly lost. "Oh, a small quip that is shared between my lord's best purifier and myself."

"Really?" Morrien nods eagerly. The Lord Marshal pauses, but continues, "Come, Morrien. Let us leave this place before you cause more disruption to my noble people."

Morrien giggles, "Aye, sir!" She trails behind him merrily.

/break/

The day ensues and after a while of trailing behind the Lord Marshal and sharing bits of witty sarcasm and jests, she resumes her prowl. Morrien stalks the halls like a silent enigmatic panther roaming its private jungle, patrolling it like the king it is. Her eyes just as soulful and deep with a kind of furtive hunger. Nothing escapes Morrien's sharp eyes, nothing is left to its own devices, everything is retained and filed away for later use. Without warning her eyes flash as they fall upon potential prey.

Slowly Morrien haunts her newest game, coming up slowly behind the unsuspecting. She seeps up behind, like an unnatural wisp of fog. With delicate ease she allows her fingers to ghost along the shell of her victim's ear, leaping back a mere instant later at the vicious defensive attack at her body. Morrien gufaws loudly, absolutely enraptured with her great skills. "Oh! Oh! So close, so close! Faster, faster, Lord Vaako! Much too slow for me, much too far behind from me!" Morrien giggles as she dances away from Vaako's enraged assaults.

"What have you come here for? To taunt me some more? I have no time for your pettiness. Be a child elsewhere, with someone who is pitifully fool enough to entertain you," Vaako growls and he whirls around, stomping away from her in a lumbering kind of way.

"Oooh!" Morrien jeers. "Have I angered the Great Lord Vaako? Perhaps this "great" man should speak prettier words with prettier thoughts put to play, for I could have sworn that Necromonger Commander Vaako himself has just insulted our esteemed Lord Marshal." Morrien grins her satisfied catty leer.

Vaako spins back to face her in fury. "I have done no such thing." His eyes glare down upon her with an intensity that would have burned any other man to shreds, but to her luck, Morrrien's baby manner and clear abandon shields her from such cruelty.

"Oh, you have, my lord. Do not deny for you scar yourself all the more. "Be a child elsewhere with someone who is pitifully fool enough to entertain you," says you, my lord. Why...who is pitifully fool enough to entertain me? Why...the Head Purifier, a great man of virtue and stature, and then the Lord Marshal himself, our honourable, distinguished, couragous leader. Are they pitifully foolish enough to entertain me? Why, yes. They are. Oh, my, the Head Purifier and our Lord Marshal would be devestated if they ever heard of your exploits, Lord Vaako," Morrien explains, almost lectures, with an apparently false disappointed countenance.

Vaako's eyes widen in both realization and severity. "Speak no lies, girl."

"Lies? Who, I, my lord? No lies from me, Sir Vaako. I am merely echoing what you, yourself, have murmured."

"And you reproduce what I have said into shame!"

"Oh," Morrien pouts, "my lord is too harsh on this one girl. To what end is it to threaten a lowly girl who is but only making stage with you."

"Make your stage somewhere else. I haven't the bout to spoil on your nameless frolics."

"For, O, for, O, this noble man's bitter speakings has speared me in the heart so! Death to my bleeding soul!" she cries out in fake woe. Abruptly she snaps from this persona to take on an animalistic scowl. "Fine! Be dead to it, then! I will not make art for you! Matter is it? I will give. I come to pay peace! A warning for you shriveled black heart that cannot see pass a pretty face! You're an idiot of a man! All strength in the arms, but none in the eyes! Your dear wife plays you! The power hungry bitch! She is a conviving snake in the shell of a woman! Open your ears and eyes," Morrien seethes. "This is a good cautionary. Let her not play you and be you the one to play her like the instrument she should be. Conspiracy is on her mind. You do well to not heed the sweetly venomed whispers in your ear at night in your warm bed. Throw aside the scarlet and do not make wails when what I say is proven right." Morrien quirks a brow and then straightens. "Fine lady be with you I pray. Take mark to my matter. This girl speaks no lies. A silencer needs none of it. But that Dame Vaako, oh she is metal so attractive. They are her necessary." Morrien replaces her cattish grin and saunters away with a sway of her hips. Her pattern of feet shifting from her sweet gaits.

A/N: Yeah...I know...it's a bit difficult to follow Morrien sometimes. It's just that...well...I've been influenced by Shakespeare, sorry! XD It gives her a beautiful mystery, though! Yeah? Hahaha, okay, anyways, thanks for reading and please review! Please! I live for them! And thanks to FemmePhantom for reviewing! It's truly very appreciated!


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot and the chick...that I have finally named.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers for The Chronicles of Riddick

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance -- romance is also eventual

Title: Except My Life -- will definitely change because I don't like that title very much. Help from readers welcomed!

Status: In progress

A/N: I would like you all to keep in mind that almost everything Morrien says is in riddles. Not difficult ones, mind you, when you realize the plot that is. In fact, I don't really think it's difficult at all. I'm sorry if it is, but everything will all be clear when the plot becomes more defined, so bear with me. Just be aware that Morrien loves speaking in riddles and/or shakespearean at certain times. Her speech pattern kind of varies between the two, so if you pay attention to her personality enough, you might just understand why.

Chapter 2

"Ah, my love, my love, my love...mark my sorrow and the viciousness of my heart. My love, my love, the concept, the concept," Morrien slowly chants to herself. She is twirling a leaf and examining it closely as she lays in an "L" shape on the window sill, her back to the sill and her legs straight up against the side of the window. Morrien giggles girlishly to herself. "Oh the concept! Lost, lost it is! Mmm, a new plan, a new plan. Oh, the wicked widow is out to play. Widow...widow...black widow...sad widow...widow, widow. Venom, venom, sickly poison, venom. Oh, the viper has arrived, the viper has arrived. The viper, bigger, stronger, in control...hm...but the widow...yes, the widow...smaller, unseen, careful, deadly. Yes, the widow. Viper, be gone..." Morrien whispers airily to herself. "Hm...at a loss. Death to the darkness," she hisses, an expression of vile distain flashes across her face. However, it smooths out easily into a deadly calm, "Sickening. No need, no needs. Defense for the self and the honors myself. Prizes, prizes, none there, many here...yes, here." Morrien giggles again. "Here, here, here, where the faith is. Where the world is. Where the society is. Where the dead life is. Perfect place." She smiles thoughtfully to herself. She waves the leaf about lightly in the air, letting go, and watching it flutter gently to land on her belly.

"Morrien, muttering to yourself again," the soft, dignified voice of Morrien's favorite person states more than asks.

"Mmm..." is Morrien's light murmuring reply.

"Morrien...?"

"Nothing, my lord."

"Nothing? It did not sound like nothing a moment ago."

"Nothing, my lord."

"You'll still insist even if I press, won't you?"

"Of course, my lord."

He sighs, "Come, walk with me then."

"Yes, my lord," she utters feather softly. Morrien stands and trails behind the man who bestowed upon her her name. There is a brief minute of silence before Morrien feels the need to break it. "Where to, my lord?"

"No where and everywhere all in the same, Morrien. You continue to insist upon calling me your lord," the Head Purifier drawls soothingly.

"And what else would you be? I am a mere silencer, to roam as I please until called upon. And yet, I am still of a lower class. You are inspiration, my lord, I am termination. What brings more to the faith? Inspiration replenishes our ranks. I can only decrease it."

"A convincing arguement, but with your skills, you put me physically lower than yourself."

"Force is not always the solution, that is a rule of thumb when being a silencer."

"Mm, yes, that's true."

"Hath my lord a method? A man does not oft visit a silencer for no process."

The Head Purifier smirks just a little at this. "So little faith in me, Morrien. You're a suspicious devil."

She chuckles. "A suspicious devil indeed. Shall I apologize for my ill hope?"

The Head Purifier nods his head as if giving a slight reckoning. "No, no. Apologies are little words. They have no true meaning. Words are words, but actions, oh yes, actions are action."

"Yes! To the exact!" Morrien bursts into laughter, eagerly agreeing with the adored man. "There's always something to be learned in books."

"Yes, few have ever even laid their sights upon a book. Books are rare in this age. Too fragile and all words.  
Words don't seem to hold the same gratification as sight and sound. Yes, yes, books challenge the imagination. And these days, not many like to be challenged. To be academically challenge a man means to insult and threaten his life. That is the curse of books of this time. However, if man were to indulge himself with the knowledgeable text...mayhap there wouldn't be so much chaos. To learn from the past is to better your future."

Morrien nods in concurrence, "Mmm, yes, yes, very true. Many a silencers have been forced into the teachings of text and the past to better prepare. Strategies is the name of the game. Many silencings are quite lengthy. Stategy is required in those cases. Text is also able to give one a better understanding of the common man. For example, a book of a dead faith, though rather useless and ridiculous at some points, reads of man's disgraces."

A glint of sharpness flashes in the Head Purifier's eyes. "Ah, do you mean to say that uneducated silencers are quickly discovered and terminated?"

Morrien cocks her head to the side as if in thought. "Mmm, in a way, yes. I have heard of a few that had gone uneducated and succeed, but those are the ones who are unable to manage a mask because their mistakes are of the flesh. And for some of those, it's just luck."

"Are you lucky, then?"

"Me?" Morrien quirks an eyebrow. "Me?" She plays a feline smirk across her lips, "No. No luck here, my lord. All careful thoughts and master schemes. No luck, just skill."

"Stategy is the name of the game, hm?"

"Yes."

"Is there an ultimate purpose here?"

Morrien perks at this question, falling instantly into childish delight. "Oh, yes! None like you know! None like you distrustfully assume. Faith! The word faith! The act faith! Faith!" Morrien hisses the last part with vicious mirth. Her harsh catty grin leaving an eerie effect in the air.

"You put fear in my heart, Morrien," the Head Purifier replies with furrowed brows of a little annoyance and a bit of frustration.

"Fear you not, my lord! I, Morrien, is at the service of yours and the faith's. No ill will shall be beared by I," Morrien's usual impish smile returns to brighten her face in a girlish way. "Yes, no worries!" She giggles and twirls around the Head Purifier, dancing around him smoothing. That's when she felt it. Morrien halts abruptly,  
an angry scrowl fills the planes of her face. She hisses savagely at the wall, her eyes focus on something not entirely there.

"Morrien?" the fatherly man inquires, feeling a disturbance in the pits of his soul by this extremely odd action.

"It's here!" Morrien growls.

"What's here?"

Morrien's head swivels around. She stares at the Head Purifier with wide eyes. "The planet, of course," she replies as if the answer is as clear as glass.

"The planet?" the man of Morrien's familiar affections quirks a brow and an expression stating that he is pondering the state of her sanity.

Morrien turns her attention back to the invisible area of before. "Yes, the planet." Morrien narrows her eyes. She gives one last animalistic snarl and stalks away. "You had better hurry, my lord. The little lambs need your sheperding."

The Head Purifier opens his mouth to question where she is going, but thinks better of it. Instead he states and asks at the same time, "You will be there."

"No," she says flatly.

"Morrien," is his stern, but incredibly calm and soft, response. A tinge of warning is in his tone.

Morrien halts and pivots her head until she is glancing over her shoulder, "The lord will be unable to bring an arrest. You cannot curb the results. There is still a slot in my game of chance." Morrien continues her prowl of new destination.

"Morrien," he tries to coax more out of her.

Morrien whirls around with a glower that spoke volumes. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but my time is pressed. Birds cannot sing. Still your heart and do as you are expected. The dawn of the green is born and I promised to be alive." Morrien deserts her menacing saunter completely and dashes down the corridor with the same grace and deathly speed of a cheetah, giving no consideration to those she nearly bowls into along the way.

The Head Purifier sighs, abandoning hopes of catching up to her and getting more answers. He goes along his way, contemplating the meanings behind Morrein's chaotic riddles. Coming to no conclusion, he decides that he would confront her later and go about his duties now.

/break/

Morrien fumes. She paces the floor with the angry vigor of a caged lion. "Now!" she seethes. "Now! Fortune now decides to sing! Now when I have yet to string my instrument!" With a burst of ill passion, Morrien lashes out at the wall. Her calm demeanor lost to the world by her rage. Deep gashes are left in the metallic wall from her equally metallic claw-like nails, an alteration made in her genetic code when she became a silencer. Finally, Morrien takes a breath and suppresses her vexed temper. A game set by Destiny and a challenge set by Fate. 'But formalities will be set by me,' she thinks. With that as her last thought, Morrien leaves the abused wall behind to seek out her beloved lord.

/break/

"Where are you going, girl?" the pretentious voice of Dame Vaako calls to Morrien.

Morrien comes to a screeching halt, she turns to face the woman of her disgust. "I am pressed for time, Dame Vaako. Perhaps I can entertain you with other matters at a later time." Morrien turns to continue, but is stopped once more.

"You did not answer my question. Where are you going? Surely a silencer cannot be pressed for time. There is no need for a silencer. Unless...there is talk of conspiracy. They say you are the one behind such sickly intentions. Are you going to prove these rumors correct?"

Morrien whirls around with flames her eyes. "I am loyal to my faith, Dame Vaako! Should there be any confederacy running in anyone's blood, it should be of a vile snake! I am no serpant to hold treason! Silencers do not mutinize, Lady Vaako." Morrien continues, unable to stop herself now that she has been riled into arguement by the insult of her loyalties and skill. "We merely take upon a goal and see it is done. Abettors wait and never do, they think of pretty plans with beautiful writing and then they are caught. Silencers make the task a quick deal. That is why we are called silencers because we are silent. Consirpacy is never in our blood, Dame Vaako. I must implore you to never insinuate such a thing again. Now if you will excuse me, Lady. I will take my leave. My destination is none of your concern and apologies if you feel I over stepped any boundaries. May you fare well in your fate." A last bow of her head and Morrien quickly leaves the astounded Dame Vaako in her trailing wind.

/break/

Morrien enters the conference room just as Vaako leaves it. She spares him a side long glance, to which he returns with a more menacing air. Of course, Morrien ignores the sharp look and bows before the Lord Marshal. "My lord, my apologies for not being present."

The Lord Marshal waves his hand absentmindedly. "It was a routine purification ceremony, you had no need to be there, and the...intruder was an unforseen variable."

"If my lord says so," Morrien murmurs. She straightens and slinks up beside the Lord Marshal. She glances at the object of the Lord Marshal's and his commander's interest, deems the topic to be important and only proceeding for a few more moments longer. Morrien steps away from them to sit beside the Lord Marshal's throne-like chair within the room. She leans against the arm of the chair, almost literally laying in wait.

As expected, the Lord Marshal quickly dismisses the leaders of his troops and sits heavily in his chair. "I have a task for you, Morrien."

As the Lord Marshal takes breath to continue, Morrien interrupts. "My lord..." she whispers, her expression taking on a slightly sorrowful desperation. "I beg of, my lord. Please hear my application."

The Lord Marshal stares with a quirked eyebrow, not sure what to think Morrien's sudden agonized distress. "Go on, I will listen."

"I must advocate with thee. Understand my mind and my love. Halt your damning fascination. Break this constant excursion. It will only bring about a pregnant intended end." Morrien leans in as if to grasp the Lord Marshal's hand, but does not partake in such an action.

"More matter and less art."

Had this not been a dire moment, Morrien would have fallen over, clutching her stomach from the lack of oxygen as she laughed to the end of her days. However, this is a dire moment, so Morrien settles with leaning in closer. "The prophecy!" Morrien hisses with conviction in her eyes.

If the Lord Marshal had not been all ears earlier, he now gives his fullest attention to Morrien. Murder is aflame in his eyes, "Prophecy, Morrien? I hope you know that the words you're speaking are very dangerous. One incorrection will be of heavy consequences." He glances around the room, waving his hand, indicating to those still in the room are dismissed. They follow his command.

"Save your threats for when I am fearing," Morrien hisses. "Hear me with clarity, my lord. Prophecies are pretty words, nothing more. They only become more when you persue them! Very much like how you are persuing them right now. Call back your men. Waste no any on the barbarian convict. He is not worth your time. I do not say this as one of your Necromongers. I say this as a silencer of great experience. And I say this as a silencer who has touched the Eye of Jodgr. Heed my warning, my lord. I have no control over what is to come if you set the prophecy into play. It is still early, you can still take back before it goes too far." Morrien calms her rapid heart and leans in close, until her lips are equal to his ear. "There is talk of conspiracy and my lips are only to recite to you. My faith and loyalty is to this cause." Not waiting for the Lord Marshal's dismissal, Morrien rises and exits the room like a chilly, winter breeze. Decisions now fall upon the Lord Marshal's mind and shoulders.

A/N: The Eye of Jodgr is something I totally made up on my own, so it belongs to me. It will be explained later on in the story as to what it really is, but I think y'all can get a faint idea of what it is already. Be nice or be mean, I don't care, just please give me feedback. If you're going to be mean, at least be constructive, or I might not respond. Fair warning. Until my brain starts working then! Ta ta, my pretties!


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot and Morrien.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers for The Chronicles of Riddick

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance -- romance is also eventual

Title: Except My Life -- will definitely change because I don't like that title very much. Help from readers welcomed!

Status: In progress

A/N: Right, I know how I told y'all that I didn't find any of Morrien's riddles difficult at all, I lied. As you may have noticed, chapter 2 came out after a VERY long time due to writer's block. So, when I went back to read it (after said long time) and finish the chapter, I noticed that I nearly had no clue about what I had been insinuating in the first place AND I'M THE AUTHOR! Goodness, how terrible it must be for you guys who haven't the slightest clue. So, I'm taking back what I said about it being not so difficult to figure out Morrien. Do not take this as a sign of me easing up. I will do no such thing. Morrien was made for riddles and she'll stay as cryptic as she needs be...which is VERY cryptic. THANKS TO ALL REVIEWERS! This chapter is for you guys.

Chapter 3

Morrien is fuming with anger. The damned atrocity! How dare that vile snake remark to her in such a way! Finally, Morrien throws her arms up in disgust, letting the subject be. She is exhausted with the prospect and decides to move on. She retrieves the leaf from the window sill of earlier before her conversation with the Head Purifier and steadily begins to make her way to the door when she freezes. Not to give way that she senses disturbance in the air, Morrien begins to preen said leaf. Gently tracing the veiny patterns of its smooth surface, Morrien listens, her ears tuning in to all the sounds near her in other rooms and hallways. She picks up the distinct sound of female footsteps coming directly towards her direction. Morrien's lips curl back into a snarl. It would seem that she would be allowed her confrontation sooner than she had thought. Morrien schools her face into smooth marble, a countenance of no wrinkles and imperfections that the Roman and Greek sculptors of many millenia ago would try to achieve. She patiently awaits for her countering player to arrive.

"Dame Vaako..." Morrien hisses cooly in her slyer way as she finally catches human vision of said challenger. A tiny, cheeky half smirk plays across her lips. She barely glances from her object of attention.

"Girl," says the Lady as her only acknowledgement, about to completely pass her when she stops. Apparently, she has found interest in the silencer of the Lord Marshal's attention.

'And the ugly beast rears its head,' Morrien mentally notes, snickering inside herself at her own words. Glancing up at Dame Vaako, Morrien comments, "Something of interest, Dame? I did not believe you would find anything of appeal here."

Dame Vaako's lips recoil in revoltion, "And you would be correct. There is nothing of appeal HERE."

Morrien smiles sarcastically, "As milady says then. A lady of your great status must have urgent business to attend to. I would not keep you from your duties." 'As whore of the ship,' Morrien snidely adds to herself in her mind. 'Thank what ever god that loves me that she isn't a telepath.'

"My duties can wait. As for you. Shouldn't you be off planning the assassination of some politician of high repute?"

"Oh, no, Milday. None that I need to fancy myself with. The Lord Marshal has not ordered yet, so I have not to purpose myself. I do as faith calls for. The Lord Marshal is of the highest faith and he has yet to call. So the cat tumbles into sleep and awaits the unsuspecting mouse at its maw," Morrien spins the last part as an afterthought, to somewhat confuse the Dame. Unnecessary, but quite amusing to find the Lady Vaako shooting daggers of obvious ignorance and distain. Morrien smiles cattishly, "As Milday may please, I shall remove myself to the Lord Marshal's quarters. I have been of great value to his scheme. He may have a victim for my talents yet." Upon second thought, Morrien adds, "It would seem that your husband may be sent on a wild goose chase. Perhaps I can curb his sentence." Morrien applies a victorious grin and nods to the almost sputtering Dame Vaako as she exits the room with the window.

/break/

Morrien had lied of course. The Lord Marshal did not need to see her, he had seen her quite recently, so she makes herself scarce and adjorns to the Head Purifier's library. A place that Dame Vaako would surely never venture, as many others rarely do. Morrien loses herself among the many shelves and surrounds herself in literal mountains of books. She wedges herself into a level of shelf that she had piled the books out of and proceeds to read. The books she had built around her acts as a shield to the outside world. Anyone looking in would only see a mess of books and continue on their way. No one would notice, no one would see, no one would know, and that is how she likes it. Morrien settles into an easy space of familiarity, the world of imagination that these beautiful words paint in her mind. If only she could go to these places that these authors describe so specifically. She would never leave if such a feat could be accomplished.

/break/

Hours have passed in a great, wondrous silence like no other. A silence that she loved the most. Silence for the silencer. Near pure bliss. And then...it is broken.

The sounds of footsteps echoing the large room breaks her out of her dreamscape created by the books. The silencer instincts beaten into her every pore awakens and snaps into action. She ends her reverence for the books, setting it down onto her stomach to listen for a moment. Her ears twitch, listening to each individual step for personality, a skill granted by her training and body's chemical enhancement. Morrien eyes flutter and she breathes in relief, returning to her current study as she recognizes the person.

"What on...who could have done this? It's a complete and utter mess!" the owner of the footsteps mutters and hisses with some irritation. His steady to rapid to steady again pace like stepping portrays the aggitation in his body.

Morrien giggles ever so slightly, a small hint to this person. She gently closes her book and places it beneath her bent knees. Like a languid snake, Morrien eases up and almost slithers out from within the bookcase. With grace and complete quietness, she moves behind a particularly wide and tall tower of books, keeping her body close to the ground. She hunches back, ready to spring at any given moment. Her eyes dart back and forth, her ears flinching, she awaits the right moment, devious grin to her face. Morrien eyes become lidded, leaning down even lower to ground level, her joints tighten, her muscles bunch, a count down. A click of step, a good thirteen feet from the mounds of books...Morrien eyes snap open and she launches out. She flies through the air and lands on all fours before the speaker, she arches her back downwards, stretching her head straight up. Morrien's maw widens for a feline hiss. Mischief and devil's joy glitters in her eyes and triumphant curl to her lips.

"Holy Under!" the man stumbles back with a startled gasp. He pants with his fear. "Morrien!" he seethes. His eyes wide, his body shaking, his hand clutching his chest. "By the Lord Marshal, girl! I have the motivation to cross you in your sleep! Dare you give this frighted man such a shock to his heart! A day will come when I may see the Underverse before the Lord Marshal calls and all due to your games of treacherous scaring jolts!"

A deep laugh rumbles within the cage of Morrien's chest. "Thrilling love," she replies huskily. Her entire being reverberates with chillingly dark satisfaction. She pulls back, away from him, curling and moving her body which way and about. Tiny pops and cracks within her bones sound as she makes her catty stretch.

"No such love for I! You would do right to dash it out of your mind. I haven't the holiness to tolerate it," He shoots snidely, all the reprimand in His tone and gesture.

"Mmmm," she moans lowly, a certain underlying dominance to her person and way. She completely ignores His response. She seductively paws her way to Him, climbing slowly up His body and clinging to Him almost like a lover-worshipper. Morrien's entire being takes on the untameable feline spirit. Her hands find their way to His shoulders and hang to them as if they anchor her. Her body molds itself to His. "The Lord Marshal has returned you, what news do you bring?"

"Be grateful, my Dear Mistress Feline, that I am not a holy man," He stares intensely into her eyes, a scolding scent to his vision.

"No, but you are a very close equivalent and it makes me feel sinfully estatic," Morrien answers with an almost slimy sarcasm, one full of pride and satisfaction.

"If you wish sinful, then violate a true holy man."

"Been there, done that," Morrien waves her hand airily, her voice distant and bored. Back to seductress, "But you would be a wonderful tumble. Fancy a dabble?"

"No, my dear, fortunately, I do not. A man such as I have no interests in invading the crib." Morrien smirks dashingly at the comment of this man. "Come then, Mistress Feline, let us make to better place for conversation." He begins to stroll towards a room more suitably furnished for comfort and lounge. Morrien clings to His right side the whole entire time. He seats Himself in a large chair, large enough for two small persons to sit comfortably.

Morrien drops into the chair with Him, sprawling her lower body across His lap and her upper body latches onto His. Her arms wrap easily, comfortably around His neck. Her head leans back onto his shoulders. "Mmm," she murmurs in feint exhaustion. "Tell me, Sir, My Lord, Holy Purifier, what brings you back to me so soon? I had thought you leave to a mission of worthless conquest."

"I had been," the Head Purifier softly mutters his reply. One of his arms snakes around her waist and his free hand lies upon the armrest, drumming it with even rhythm. One of Morrien's hands form to point, her index finger trails along the ornate metallic armor like dressing upon the Head Purifier's carments. "But, the Lord Marshal called me back, deeming the mission wasteful." He misses Morrien's momentary smirk. "You know, strange thoughts arise out in the Black, so far away from the Armada. One questions oneself." He then even quieter, whispers into her ear, "One's faith." Morrien's body stiffens just enough to signal that she understands his meaning. He returns to his norm tone, "I could not help but wonder about myself, what of my individual being, but I soon lost profit in it. The moment I returned, I searched for you, you know."

"Did you...? To what avail, my lord? I am always near when here..."

"I felt the need to speak to you. Our conversations have license and depth. I feel a yearning for it. You must understand, my dear. I am almost alone here. No other speaks to me like you. No other possesses the insight and education that you do. No other shares with me that intense bright glow."

"I understand..."

"I am glad for that."

"Be at ease then, my lord. I have the highest esteem in you and the highest faith. My trust is yours. Cherish it."

"Of course. I will hold it deep beside my beating love."

Morrien smiles dreamily, "Hopeful poet."

"Am I?"

"To me."

"I feel joy for that then."

"A design has been set into motion, my lord."

"Design?" The Head Purifier glances down onto the top of Morrien's head at this. "To what distinction?"

"A Design of Fate. Little paths to take and eye for. Choices, small tiny choices that make ways. I have been a'gifted and a'cursed. I have set upon the playing field great changes by coming to this society. In all honesty and hope, may there be a way to save us all."

"What ails us?"

"A higher extinction. It will swoop down upon us and plunk is from the existing like a bird of prey does to an unfortunate rodent. I cannot murmur on that any longer. There is something to heed in the air. I feel ill at the slightest thought of possibility."

"Poor Morrien. Ease your soul while you are with me. Your angst becomes mine. Do give to this old man's selfish wishes. Only the most sweetest for me then, hm?"

"Only the sweetest." A pause and Morrien's brows furrow. "I do not recall claiming you an old man. Selfish, maybe, but never an elderly of persons."

"Ah, but you see me? I grow closer to it every day."

"Oh, you poor holy man. Let Mistress Feline take your worries away. You are nothing of an old man. So young and jubilant still! Aye, methinks you not more than a few moons elder."

The Head Purifier laughs heartily, "A few moons? Not a few moons, my dear, girl. More like several dozens of moons. I believe myself at least six years your senior."

"Six? So many? Not so! Six does not make you elderly, nor does it make you so much older than I. A fall with me would not be so horrid," Morrien giggles, kissing him just below the ear to prove a seductive point.

"Hush, girl. You bring evils to a holy man. You prove only to damned the saints."

"Aye! That I am! A succubus, a creature of the night! An instrument of the unholy darkness!" Morrien announces with great humor. She pulls herself up closer to the Head Purifier, changing her position of relaxed pleasure inducer to cattish love. She curls up a bit, leaning into him even more, tucking her head into the crook between shoulder and neck, loving the affection she is giving and receiving. "Only the sweetest. I want you to know, my lord. I hold you the dearest, before the Lord Marshal and before the faith itself. You are mine in the depths of my ever beating organ of blood."

"So many words to express just one concept. I return your affections, then," the Head Purifier's lips curves into a half smile. He draws his arms closer around her, leaning onto the top of her head. "I believe that if I could have ever been blessed with a child, I would hope that he or she would have your quality."

Morrien smiles sadly, "My quality? That of a silencer? A mourner? A cold shell of a former devoted and exuberant girl? What qualities, Sir? I have none that are so wonderful."

"This loyalty and affection. This graceful depth in your speech and mind. I appreciate your utter truth and complete devotion."

"Devotion?"

"Is it not another word for loyalty? You yourself claim that you are loyal to the faith. Could you not have devotion, then? How could you say 'cold shell of former devotion and exuberance' when you have all of these. Your devotion to the faith and your exuberance in frightening me half way to the Underverse." He chuckles at his own joke.

Morrien merely smiles in love. "If you say so, my lord."

"No protests or vehement arguement? A first, Morrien. Your usual deviation does not allow this sort of humor."

"No, but only the sweetest for you, yes? A moment so good as this, one can only bask."

"Ah...yes..."

"A good moment...if only these lasted longer and never ended."

"If they end, they can never make way for even better one."

"If only there was paradise and we could be stuck, stand still in it."

"Then life would be boring and we'd all die from the sorrow."

"Would we?"

"Sorrow from the happiness, yes. If one is of a constant grace, then one is of a constant boredom. Boredom can only bring sorrow for the perpetual unchange and deep sorrow only leads to death."

"So wise, my lord. So wise, if only my master had been so wise and affectionate. If only my master had not taken his profession."

"Your master?"

"My master that is not my master any longer. He is dead. I saw to it."

"Somehow I cannot find any sympathy in me."

"And it is well appreciated that you cannot. I would not want it."

"And for your no-longer-master?"

"He would have receive it. The Devil does not send along such hopeful messages. Hell is for the damned and hell is for the treacherous. The Devil conceives no hope to the pits of Hell."

"You constantly speak of this Hell and Devil. Do you forget your faith, Morrien?"

"I forget it not. Old habits are hard to break. However, I do find the stories of Devils and Hells encouraging. It gives me a sort of peace to think that all the deserving go to be enternally marred in continuous damnation."

"Tragic. You are a dark soul. Very dark."

"Dark and delicious. That was how he made me."

"You can be something different."

"And I had remarked, 'old habits are hard to break'. This girl has a long ways to go before all old attachments are severed. Some already gone, many more left."

"Yes...come then, my dear. We cannot dally here all day. There is work to be done."

"Work? When you have just returned? As a silencer, I have merely to await when called. Come then, let us take ease and return to the reality another time."

"A holy man could be easily led astray by you, Mistress Feline. You are a sinful type of seductress."

"And it works so well. Come then, my dear holy man. Let me lead you astray!" Morrien smiles cheekily.

The Head Purifier merely nods, chuckling along with her show. "Lead way then, Morrien. I shall follow you to the ends of the universe, only to keep you sane and alive."

Morrien laughs, "Then come with me to the ends of the universe, where we may slumber and never be brought to Judgement Day!"

Both lord and silencer leave the room hand in hand, like daughter and father. Dearly beloveds, they escape to their own world for a small time. They make way for each others' lives like no other could. All others are banished from their realm. They are the only ones to exist and they love it until it must be broken.

A/N: Yes, it's short, but I was hard pressed with getting my point out there. Although it does not seem like much has progressed within this chapter, there has been quite a bit. Please, follow the storyline and characters carefully or you will become either lost or very, VERY utterly surprised. Things build up to a conclusion, in the end, everything will be VERY clear. I have also decided that this story will have many tragedies. So be prepared. You may weep or you may fall into a sorrow. No fears! Just persevere! You'll get through and in the end it will all be worth it! I promise! If by the end you feel unsatisified, leave reviews, I'll read them and I may take it upon myself to continue on a different note. However, for the time being, REVIEW! I love feedback.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot, Morrien, and the Eye of Jodgr

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think of something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: Brace yourselves...it's gonna get ugly...

Chapter 4

A month has passed since his return from the fruitless mission that the Lord Marshal had so recklessly set upon him. All is well, or as well as they could be for him. Morrien has taken to whispering only the sweetest of nothingnesses in his ear. She would attempt to seduce him and take him to her bed. Most times, she succeeded, but not in the sexual sense. She would manage to tempt him into bed and lie with him for hours, doing nothing but murmur to him softly, stare at him, and gently carressing every inch of his face. She even sleeps with him now, never leaving him alone for a moment except for when the situation demanded privacy. For example, his usual decent duties as a human being attending to his cleanliness. Morrien has fallen into a habit of trailing him everywhere he so desires to go. She refused to leave his side, she rarely ever entertained herself by mocking the Lady Vaako as she had usually done before in the midst of boredom. She even turned down the Lord Marshal's requests to dine with him every so often if he was not present. Morrien has taken upon herself the loyalty of a dog, but has kept her grace as a cat.

The Head Purifier shakes his head as he recalls these thoughts. He has more certain things to admire. He resumes the heady thinking of a more steady and present state of mind. He mustn't think of Morrien now, when she has for the first time within the entire month, left his side. The Head Purifier looks straight beyond to his front with a bare frown to his features. Now that he has been relieved of her, he feels a sense of loneliness and heartfelt loss. Without Morrien about to keep him company at every moment in the day, he discovers that it is an urgent strike to his comfort. So he has become used and attached to Morrien. With a sigh, the Head Purifier trudges onward, to do his duty as head purifier. He continues to the capital center of this planet's "world", so to speak, fringed by a massive body of Necromongers, both soldiers, nobles, and other purifiers under his command.

Just a little ways ahead of him is the capital center of said planet. He begins to carefully pick a few choice words he would use to speak to these lost souls and deliver them from the hell of their unforgiving religion. His faith, the Necromonger Faith, is the only faith worth having. The only faith that could save your soul from total damnation in a blood lost pit. A sound jerks him from his next step. He comes to a complete halt, stopping all other movement around him. He is of the highest ranking here and all shall obey. The Head Purifier cocks his head to a side, just a bit, searching for the noise that had irked him just seconds ago. The soft disquiet rings in his healthy, warrior trained ears. The small sobs of a child that sounds like the awefullest wailings of a dying, desperate woman reaches his fatherly lobes.

The Head Purifier takes action, not about to allow a child to be deserted within this mass of violent taking. His parental instincts driving him on to round a corner, calling over his shoulder to the other members of his party to go ahead of him. One of the Necro Soliders that had been guarding the party breaks off to escort him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Head Purifier wonders why only one soldier is bothered enough to come with him, but he brushes the thought to the winds. This is just a child he is searching for after all.

He finally comes to a stop at the entrance of an alley way and is met with the sight of a bloodied child. None of the mentioned red fluids belonging to her. The fact that the child is female only strikes at his paternal faculties even more. An image flashes across his mind of Morrien being in the same desperate, dirty, desolate, position in some digusting, dingy, vermin infested corner like this. The mental picture is also quickly brushed away. He kneels before the child, gently reaching out, but not quite making contact with her. He holds his hand out to her, "Oh, you poor darling child. What's happened to you?" The girl can only whimper in reply, tucking further into herself. "Where are you parents?"

Tears drip from the young girl's eyes. "T-they're g-g-gone. I d-don't k-know where they are."

"Ohh..." the Head Purifier purses his lips, expressing his dire concern to her. "Come then, child. Come with me, we'll find your family and give you a place to stay. Come along." He gently brushes her tiny streams of salty liquid.

The girl sniffles. Her eyes dart pass him to glance at the Necro Soldier behind him and even farther beyond. She sniffles again and whimpers. She presses her lips together tightly into a thin line and drags herself farther back into her dirty corner.

The Head Purifier furrows his brows in confusion at the indication. He turns to glance back at the Necro Solider only for his eyes to widen at the sight. A metal pipe coming down hard onto the soldier's helmet, knocking him to the ground. The Necro Soldier makes to stand upright quickly, however he is knocked down again and beaten as swarms of miscellaneous rebellious men of the planet rain down upon him. The Head Purifier glances back to the girl, not surprised to find her gone. He turns back in time to see a metal pipe coming for his own head. Though not quite as strong and well trained as the average man of his species, he is still strong and does have some trainning.

The holy man of the Necromonger faith growls with a feral underlining, he grabs hold of the oncoming pipe easily, pushing the offender back with his own weapon. The father of Morrien yanks the pipe from the rebel's hands with a strength that she would have been proud of. With it, he fights back, knocking down and ending the lives of as many men as he possibly can. This animals dared to ambush him with such underhanded effects, he would give them their animal punishment. The Head Purifier attacks with great fevor, never getting tired and never flinching, fighting as a true warrior of his kind, a Furyan. 'Morrien would be proud,' he mentally notes as the long rod in his right hand makes contact with a rebel's skull, shattering it and the knife in his left hand slicing through the tender flesh of another rebel's throat, spilling forth the crimson poison from the jugluar. Spinning to the side, his legs fly with practiced ease, unbalancing every body he can. Though his uniform may seem most definitely difficult to move about in, there is not real truth to the sight. He moves deftly like any man would in his own skin. The many metallic ornaments decorating his fingers, knuckles, toes and heels of his boots make good weapons within the fury of this melee.

He defends and attacks with a great pride and ferocity. He returns each blow a hundred fold with the true heart of a warrior, the spirit of a Furyan. However, his countered attacks prove futile. Though he managed to cut down a good half of the rebels, their numbers still over power him. He is brought down hard and unforgiving, both for his faith and his very nature. He in turn is flogged without mercy.

Pain errupts at all points in his body. Harsh jabs to his back and stomach. Blunt force to his face and limbs. There is no pause. Just torrents of ever lasting and unforgiving pain sweeps over his mind. Burning him to the depths of his soul. He can feel his blood running cold, spilling from every wound, slicking his face, blinding him. The liquid, though thicker than water, is not much more. It colors the street, causing a dark evil effect. His lips and mouth bleeds in multiple places, causing him to nearly drown in the very essense that sustains his life on a daily basis. He loses the ability to move his limbs and the utter smashed feeling indicates that they've been broken. The clothes on his body is torn and soggy, wet from the nectar of his heart and veins. It is hard to breathe, a clamping on his chest and throat. He cannot speak nor cry out to express his dreaded agony, not that he would. His Necromonger and Furyan pride would not allow it. He takes each crack with a grim silence, his countenance displaying a carnal snarl. The bones meant to protect his inner organs smashed and broken. A miracle that these bones have not yet pierced his lungs or he would drown, not that he is not already drowning with the metallic wine spilling down his sore, abused throat. He sputters and coughs, the fluid running down his trachea causing a massive burning within the depth of his chest. His entire being is up in flames, torn, broken, abraded, discolored, and slashed flesh, he no longer feels. It is only a dull ache at the back of his mind. No, all he feels is a horrid, hot, white, vicious, screaming pain stricken of every nerve in his body.

His eyes can barely open. Bruised and swollen, they almost refuse to, but they heed his command in the end. They crack open as slits, presenting him with a red foggy haze. There is no clarity other than dark moving blotches. His breathing is labored as he lie broken. A last, sharp, cracking pain to his lacerated face and traumatized head pushes him over the edge...sending him into an infinant black abyss. His last thoughts, 'How bleak this end to me seems. A more fitting cease of my life would be at the hands of my renegade daughter, myself. Now that is worth a storm of dramatic tears.' With that, his eyes roll back into this head, stiff body finally becoming stuff as he gives up. He welcomes the embrace of the merciful onyx unconciousness. "No pain..." it whispers to him. End.

A/N: Feedback...now...please...


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot, Morrien, and the Eye of Jodgr.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think og something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: I know the last one was short. It was meant to be. Did y'all really think it was over?

Chapter 5

"NOOOO!" the banshee's death screech echoes within the many corridors, halls, grand rooms, and control centers. The figure of a dainty woman crumbles to the hard, cold, unforgiving, metal floor. "AAAHHH!" she screams as her fists bang the harshly solid ground. The thick, firm material seems to transform into liquid under the impact of her hands. It ripples as her fists pounds and melts into distorted irregularity. A tightly wound cord has been snapped inside her. "NO!" she shrieks once more, abruptly lunges up right, and soars down the passage way. Her eyes are wide, her mouth gaping, and her expression of stone cold terror.

She storms into the medical room, frightful horror has been replaced by pure murderous hatred. "WHERE IS HE!?" she demands, her voice full of fury. All step aside, fearful of the damage she would inflict on their poor souls if denied.

One brave, though still shaking, doctor steps forward. "Miss Morrien, I'm afraid you cannot come any further. His condition is not yet stable. We're still within the process of-..."

One animalistic growl from Morrien and the cowering doctor quickly shrinks away. "I will only say it once more," her voice drops to a menacing low, "Where...is...he?"

A particularly courageous nurse steps forward, "T-this way, p-please." She leads Morrien further back into the medical room. She pulls back the bleak, white curtain that is obstructing the view of any onlooker trying to peek in on the secret. "He's almost stable," the nurse whispers. "He's very strong, but...t-they had dealt too many blows. I-it's a miracle that he's s-still alive. He's acquired t-t-too many head injuries. I'm s-sorry, but there's n-nothing the doctor can do to bring him back. His eyes may open and portray some c-consciousness, but he's paralyzed. There's just been too much d-damage done. He'll n-never be the s-same. He'll be bedridden for the rest of his life. H-he'll n-never-..."

"He'll never speak again. I know. Shut up and leave," she has lost her finesse as she stares down at the broken picture of her father. The nurse does as she was ordered. Morrien's hand slowly slips forward, her fingers barely brush the lacerated flesh along her lord's high cheekbones. "I'll have vengeance for you," her lips whisper. With that, Morrien violently stalks away from his bed and out of the medical room.

/break/

The giant double doors fly open, slamming ominously against the wall as she breezes into the room with a treacherously hazardous air. The eyes of all occupants snap around to stare at her. All those before her part in waves like the Red Sea to the biblical Moses that she had once read about. "What is the meaning of this?" the Lord Marshal demands, standing to stare down at Morrien.

"Who did it?" the feline girl demands, her brows wrinkled in a scowl.

"What ever are you talking about?"

"WHO DID IT!" Morrien roars.

The Lord Marshal stares down at her with a hard glare, wariness is evident in his eyes to her, his countenance stays stony so that he would not be given away to his superiors. "Do not raise your voice to me, girl. They have been dealt with." His lips thins into a sordid little line.

"NO!" Morrien howls. "NO! THEY COULD NOT HAVE BEEN DEALT WITH! I MUST HAVE MY VENGEANCE!"

"IT IS NOT YOUR VENGEANCE TO BE HAD!" the Lord Mashal bellows back at her.

"HE WAS MINE! THEIR HEADS ARE MINE! YOU CANNOT DENY ME MY MEAT!"

"He was more mine than he was ever yours!"

"You do not know the words you speak! He was mine in all! He was only yours by faith! Give back to me my right! I must have it!"

"ENOUGH! Close your trap, you insolent silencer! I will not have you speak to me that way." To all the other inhabitants of the room he says, "Leave. I have a dealing with this squirming girl." They heed his command. He looks back onto Morrien's rage filled gaze. "Be still, Morrien. I have his best interests in my mind. He is my Head Purifier."

"WAS your Head Purifier. He is nothing now! A broken body with a trapped soul!"

"Silence! If you are so inclined to dash my forgivings back at me then so be it! You will not have your right!"

Morrien instantly bows her head. "My apologies, my lord."

"We have them. They are currently prisoners within the darker depths. They have not been punished in any form. A little abused due to capture. The soldiers were able to retrieve every single one of them except for two who were able to commit suicide before my soldiers could handle them. I will leave to you their fate," the Lord Marshal nods in her direction.

Morrien breathes deeply, "Yes, my lord." Morrien leaves with a sort of more calm. And as an afterthought, "Thank you."

/break/

Morrien steps into the dark pit known as the Prison Cooridor. Her eyes drift to the few guards standing by. "Leave." They quickly comply. Morrien then steps up to the cage of her father's killers. She softens her features into that of a curious girl. "You are newly taken men?" she whispers, kneeling down to their level, false sympathy.

One man wearily nods. "Yes."

Naive determination sparks onto Morrien's face. "I must be quick. They will only be gone for so long. Be as quiet as you can. Come, I will get you out of here."

"Why do you do this, girl?" the earlier man questions.

"It's wrong. They took my brother and created an abomination out of him. I will free you in spite of what he has become. Come quickly," she murmurs, opening the cage. She hustles them out of the tiny cage, through a tiny trapdoor a little ways down. "Go through here. Crawl to the grate at the other end, go through it, and then open the door in the room. It will take you down a hall with many a' hatches lining the wall, go into the fifth hatch, and exit through the window."

All the men do as their told, not bothering to question her anymore. "God bless you," says the only man willing to speak to her.

Morrien smiles innocently until they're out of sight. Her face then drops into pure hatred. "Yes, I am very blessed with the opportunity to have my vengeance."

/break/

Morrien descends from a top the staircase slowly. Her eyes stare straight ahead, marking a building as her vantage point. With a ghostly velocity, Morrien disappears before the human eyes. Her figure reappears in a crouch a top of the targeted building in a crouch. Her eyes narrow as if to focus on several different bodies as groups break off from the giant mass. "Inane, insignificant, little mice." Morrien gives a small wave, a signal.

Necro Soldiers pour out from the Basilica. They flow down the alleys and streets that Morrien directs them. She watches all the happenings with a cold eye. One by one, she follows each party of Necro Warriors chasing the small litters of helpless mice. As the savage animals that broke her lord were herded into a corner, the soldiers would retreat and she would then swoop in to take her brutal revenge. She watches and creates all these workings with a bitter, arctic spirit.

Finally, the last party. This is the one with the forgiving man. He questions her as she grips his throat, metallic claw-like nails poised to strike him. "Why? There is no justice in this!" he sputters, flinging small drops of his spittle on her face.

With a numbing intensity she replies, "You destroyed my father."

"You Necromongers have no honor! You destroy our fathers! You destroy our families! There is no justice in this vengeance!"

"We Necromongers give you all a chance! It is we who possess this power. You cannot judge. You are the one on the butcher's table now. This is my wrath! There need be no justice."

"NO! SHE-DEVI-..." his speech blurs into a gurgling death noise. Morrien's hand had plunged into his chest .

"She-devil? Maybe I am," is Morrien's glacial, soft response. She tears her hand from his chest, clutched in her fist is his heart. She drops the man and dramatically exits the alley, returning to the Basilica, Necro Soldiers trailing behind her. They watch her in respectful awe. No soldier has any doubt in her now. All are allied to Morrien in this moment of glory. Morrien will be the matron of their bloody dreams. Morrien casually drops the still warm heart as she ascends the steps. The wet, crimson organ smacks the ground hard, splattering a rosy paint stain on the creamy floor. Morrien licks a few of her fingertips delicately like a kitten. "Sour!" she hisses, dashing her hand to the side, blood flies from her hand, leaving it mostly clean. "Rebel's blood is always too sour."

A/N: Still a bit short, but longer than the last chapter. Things will be getting a bit...darker. This does have tragedy after all! You've been warned.

FEEDBACK PLEASE! I'll sick Morrien on you if you don't! No, I'm just kidding. Please leave reviews!

(Damn, I must really love you guys. I'm working my butt off for these.)


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot, Morrien, and the Eye of Jodgr.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL.

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think of something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: Yeah, I know these past few chapters have been kinda short. Bear with me though. They just all have a lot of significance that needs to be spaced. I can't smoosh everything together. Actually I can, but it wouldn't be very good form. Enjoy! Or...maybe not.

Chapter 6

"My lord," she calls to him, cornering him, pinning him to the very room with her presence, with her distasteful aura. "A word." A command, not a request.

He nods to her casually, no fear in this faith. He waves her in and the remainder of his loyal out. "Come in, Morrien. Speak to me, how is he?"

She ignores him completely and begins her own speech. She starts with her eyes downcaste, staring into a nothingness. Walking with seeming mild lenience, but really circling him slowly, closing in on him like a lion stalking its prey. "It's really quite sad isn't it? Ironic in a sense, no?" Her voice is dead cold and steel strong. Her entire being a type of calm only found within the thrilling moment of danger. Everything is at a stand still as she gazes at him with her vibrant, glowing, electric green eyes that seem to mist over even the slightest before snapping back into sharp focus again and again. The emotions reflecting from those eyes are a torrent not to be reckoned with. At that very second, he discovers that he feared her. Feared her to the very pit of his dark, cold, dead, soul. He fears her now and knows that if she so willed it, he could not escape her. Her wrath like that of a mad dog, gone insane with disease and hatred.

Her already glowing eyes suddenly flash as she inclines her head to the side to stare him down as if he were merely a piece of meat. "That this technology...this great and wondrous advancement that the human, no, that the Necromonger race has achieved...cannot even satisfy my standards. This technology that past ages would murder for cannot save life or resurrect it. Hm," she chuckles humorlessly. Her mouth curves into a cold blooded smirk. She is now speaking to him without the riddles and without the haze of insanity, so that her message is clear. She is now speaking to him as if it were his Judgment Day and she, his Divine Judge. "You needn't worry. There will be no resurrecting here. It really is an amazing feat, if not oh-so ironic. Technology, mathematics, science, chemicals, machines...all able to make me what I am today. All gave me this strength, this cunning, this enhancement from the average life's whore," she hisses the last part with amounting detest. "It could make me great, but it could not save my BELOVED! It could not save another that is dearest to me! And for that I damn it! I damn it to the very last Ring of the Seven Hells and beyond!" she screams at him now, her eyes raging like a storm. Her face is contorted into massive hatred, sorrow, and fury; a terrifying squall. Her body is rigid and tense with the stiffening of her muscles at the pure agony deep within her being. And just like that, everything relaxes and smoothes into that flawless, feline grace that he is most accustomed with.

She looks away from him, her eyes taking on a far away look, turning flat, dead, to stare half lidded at the ground. "You have no concerns, Sir," she whispers quietly, her liquid calm returned. "I have no vengeance for you." Her eyes flutter back up to connect with his. "No, my wrath is not for you. My retribution...my," sigh, looks away, head bent for the ground again, "reprisal...is for another. For another time and another day. I can only tell you to be weary. I am not your shield, only your killer." She looks up to him again, meeting him dead on in the eyes, hers flashing again. "Do not try to use me as anything other than a silencer. I have no stomach for anything else. These recent...events...has laid in me the need to...how shall I say it...seek solace in hushed pause and tranquility. This is my 'request'," she says this with much sarcasm, "to you, my liege. May I have this consideration brought to light and bidded allowance?"

His throat is dry as he watches her predatory stance. Her whole self taking on the persona of a stalking tiger, threatening and aggressive. He swallows, in hopes of quenching his abrupt thirst. He nods slowly, keeping his expression blank and cool. "Consideration brought to light and bidded allowance. I hope you find peace," he says to her gently, as to not provoke her into more belligerence.

She sneers with cold sarcasm. "I will never have peace," she bites out snidely and turns on him to storm away. Her stomps are filled with a silence and grace that he never thought possible in such a gesture. A first time for everything. He can only hope that Morrien does find peace...perhaps quickly for the sake of his people and himself.

/break/

She allows the barest of smirks to softly play across her lips and disappear again into sorrow. She gently places her hand over his, "I'm so sorry, my love. I feel the deepest regret and grief in my chest." She stares at his unmoving form as his eyelids flutter just the slightest before laying still, closed.

He could feel the helplessness swelling inside of him. Utter broken misery as he listens to her heart shatter and knows that he is unable to mend it. His poor, poor beloved, sitting at his bedside, whispering to his doomed soul. She's becoming a shell just as quickly as he is by staying with him. He can no longer have a life and because of this, neither can she. The unearthly sorrow spills from his heart as he watches the girl of his fatherly love sit cold, unable to shed a single tear. The nothingness seeps into him as he continues to lie there, too incapable of comforting his girl and scare her fears away.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs again as she leans in closer. "I'm so very sorry."

'Don't be sorry,' he wants to say to her. He can feel and hear the weeping in her soul's voice, though no actual rivers cry. 'Don't be sorry. I don't want you to be sorry.'

"I'm sorry," she says to him again and again, never ceasing as if it were an enchanting scripture that could bring him back to her. She recites this mantra over, and over, and over again. "I'm sorry that you have to suffer like this. I just wanted to have more time with you. I had denied the consequences and now you are neither living nor dying. I'm sorry," she goes back to her chatting. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She holds his one hand with both of hers now. He can feel her, stalk still as he is. He can feel her shifting closer, desperately so. Hoping against all hope that he would awaken to her through such a small act. 'No, what did you do? It doesn't matter. Don't be sorry, beloved. I'm still here for you. Don't be sorry. Don't be sad. Do not mourn for this old man,' he tries to reach her mentally, to no avail. His soul cries fro hers.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could be with you. I don't want to stay here. Please, I want to be with you," she begs him in whispers, as if he is the one to decide her fate. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just come back to me, please. Please, let this just be a twisted jest to shake fear to my core and have you rise in resurrection, jolly and joyful to have me by your side. Please." She leans her forehead against his hand that is clasped between hers.

He can feel the soft wisps of her hair as it brushes his bare hand. The skin of her forehead against that of his hand wrinkles as she squeezes her eyes shut. 'Oh beloved, don't. Don't be sorry. Don't come with me,' he tries to whisper to her, of course, there is no movement.

"I knew, you know," she says finally, lifting her head to stare at his face. "I knew this would happen. I knew you would die. I just didn't know how and only knew roughly when. We're all toys and little pawns in Death's game of life. There is no true Destiny or Fate, just Death. And I knew. I'm sorry, there just wasn't any purpose to telling you. You would only ponder and worry. I tried to make your last days your happiest, but I have such a guilt. I'm sorry. I could not save you. How I wish that I could have." Her voice finally begins to crack, though no other physical change occurs. "I'm so sorry."

'Don't be sorry, darling. There was nothing you could do,' he tries and tries only to have his heart continue to corrode. He could hear it all and understand, but now on the brink of death it holds little significance.

"I never did tell you much about myself when you told me everything. I couldn't tell you. What would you think? I didn't want to spoil it. Our time. It was a very...picturesque thing. I did not want to ruin such with the drabs of my bloody layers being peeled away, causing you to question or try to make it better. The truth is that you can't. I've accepted what I am and I didn't want you to try to change it during your final days. I didn't want you to worry." A small, shaky intake of breath here. Morrien does not lose her composure. She stares on, silent for a long moments, just watching his unmoving facial features.

"Oh, my lord, how I ache for you. I will never see another smile, or raise of your delicate, handsome brow, or another twitch of your eye when you are displeased with my hyper antics," Morrien forces a strangled chuckle. "Oh, Father, Father, father of mine. Father I had and lost; father I had again and lost again. My love, my kin, my family. Please, please don't leave me," finally her eyes water. The liquid pools, causing her already unnatural luminescent eyes to shine in a divine, unworldly sense.

"Oh God, Beloved. This curse. This unholy curse. I wish I did not have. This antagonizing hurt deep within my bosom, Father, so horrid I cannot bear it. I have only felt this twice before. I cannot hold myself a float much longer. Too many a times, Love! The bearer of my love who gave me a place when I did not have one. The life of one who graced me with my lovely name is about to be extinguished. I cannot live with such grief. Please, do not leave me to wither away, do not go to your paradise and leave me in hell. I cannot live without you. No other love can match yours. No other love can possibly sustain me!" she hisses. Barriers cannot stand solid; damn breaks and rivers flow. One after the other they come freely. Soon her face is drowned as his bed sheets are soggy. Sobs shake her into an oblivion of lost hope.

'No, no, no! Don't, dearest! Do not cry! Dry your mad tears and bear a fruit of happiness and love in your life!' he cries to her desperately, to make no change. She cannot hear him and so father and daughter weep together, hearts breaking together and souls shattering together, there is no hope. Fate and Destiny already decided by Death. Poor, futile, gone life. No more family.

/break/

"Come on! Again! Get up you worthless excuse of a Necromonger! Get up, Soldier! Prove yourself as a Necro Warrior! Again!" she snarls, her teeth bared and her fingers flexed like claws. "Come on!"

The beaten body of a very large, well toned man shudders. He curls up, trying to flinch away from her almost. He slowly raises, swaying dangerously on his feet. Morrien watches intently, waiting a while longer before making her move. He finally brings his hands up, enclosing them in fists, and crouching in a fighting stance.

All is quiet except for the many occupants of the room. Many spectators, one of which is the Commander Vaako, who had found his way into promotion since the mission that the Lord Marshal had commanded in vain. Morrien springs forward, lashing out in a kick that is deflected by the hard, muscular arm of the abused Necro Soldier she is "sparring" with. Using said arm as support, Morrien twists her body, swinging her other leg around to catch him in the temple. Both go down. Morrien lands in a predatory crouch and the soldier, defeated, on his back.

"Weak," Morrien sneers. She watches as a few fellow soldiers drag the losing man to the infirmary.

"You fight a low rank soldier. You would find more of a challenge if you weren't so intent on destroying the Armada from the inside," Vaako steps forward, staring straight into Morrien's eyes, never flinching, never afraid.

'A man must be very foolish or very powerful to defy me in such a way during my time of anger,' Morrien mentally notes. She takes in her opposer's stance in pride. Morrien smirks, both mocking Vaako and enjoying his obvious strength and courage. "And you would be that challenge?"

"You would so quickly and eagerly accept?"

"I've accepted nothing," Morrien scoffs, smirk still in place.

"Like the passing of a certain purifier."

Morrien lets loose an animalistic snarl before she herself could process her own actions. She can feel her muscles tense as if to take action, but she relaxes. "Tread carefully, Vaako. You're just a dog."

"Then what are you? You, yourself, are too a dog."

Morrien reviles in distain, shaking with sarcastic humor, "I, a dog? Far from it. You are a dog who can never escape his master! I am something more, I have no master. I am here by will and loyalty. I am no dog who rolls over by command. It would do you well to remember that."

"Then you admit to treason."

"I admit to no treason and I am not traitor. I have committed no crime. I cannot be convicted. Choose your words carefully, Vaako. I am not of a good moment."

Vaako smirks, clearly enjoying that he is rousing Morrien's frustration. "I'll keep that in mind."

Morrien bristles, much like the feline that all so often describe her as. "Do you challenge me,Vaako?"

"Challenge you? A mere silencer? Of course not."

"Tread carefully, Vaako. Come out with it then. Do you challenge me or not? This lovely silence!" Morrien's arm sweeps out, daring him casually, though her eyes are anything, but casual. "Come now, Vaako. Will you play with me? Much like how your Great Lord promised me?" Morrien quirks her brow and crooks her index finger, coaxing Vaako closer. She is challenging him herself. "I was only playing cat and mouse with the other one."

Vaako sneers at her. "I rather not."

'Two can play at this game, Black Tormentor. I just play it better. I know what you are doing and I admire it greatly. Exactly as a man should be,' Morrien marks to herself in her mind. "Afraid?"

"Hardly afraid."

"Then you should not walk away."

"I have yet to walk away."

"Then come. Play with me. Show me more game than that lowly ranked soldier did."

Vaako sneers, "Very well. You have your challenge." Vaako steps forward into the imaginary ring. All eyes are now on the two fighters. The many spectators watch carefully, not wanting to miss even a beat. Vaako sheds some of his heavier layers of his outfit, dropping them unceremoniously into the hands of a waiting lowly soldier who places it elsewhere with care. Vaako watches Morrien steadily, his countenance only expresses a stony, sober, blankness. A blank that radiates grim, dangerous, seriousness. This is an expression that Morrien bats away easily. A facade that she is most accustomed with in her line of work. It does not phase her in the least. "Come then, girl. You demanded for this conflict. Mark your first move."

In an attempt to keep her composure, Morrien stays silent, bringing the confrontation to one of wills. She moves, circling him, pushing him to do the same with her. The predatory stance that had never been absent heightens to its peak at this moment. Morrien's eyes narrow. Her eyes refuse to blink, or rather, they don't need to quite as often as a normal human would.

"Come now, girl. Those were big words. Do you have no strength to prove yourself? Coward."

"Buffoon..." Morrien hisses.

Vaako snarls, lashing out at her instantly. Morrien bounds away. Her perception is as focused as ever. She understands. This is a dangerous opponent. He wouldn't be Commander for nothing. Vaako in turn blinks as little as humanly possible without impairing his vision. He too realizes the gravity of this battle and his offender. She is not a force to be reckoned with if not prepared. Even the most skilled of soldiers could not escape her and here he now stands against her. Thrilling. This is a true war.

They are circling each other once more. No bodily gestures give way to their next planned blow. Vaako's eye twitches and Morrien's fingers curl. They dash at each other, head long, bearing everything they have. Morrien aims for Vaako's clavicle and Vaako aims for Morrien's sternum. The world bleeds away around them. They are the only ones in this bright black. They are the universe's lovers.

A bead of sweat pools in the dip of Vaako's right eye, seeping into it. A strand of stray hair catches itself between Morrien's lips. Eyes intent and focused on each others. Animalistic teeth bared at each other. In that very last second, before blows connect, a flash of something crosses their eyes. Something clicks. An understanding. Respect. A grim dawning. They are one and the same. One of a very unique kind of spirit. They have the same vengeance and the same distinction. They are genuine warriors. Fighters until the bitter end. They were of a dying breed. The last of the honor bound champions of old. They were legends...

A/N: Aaaah! Savor it! Hahaha, anyways, yes, short. I know. They're getting posted pretty fast though, so keep your panties on. Y'all be getting more soon. Besides, this chapter is longer than the last one! LOTS OF FEEDBACK PEOPLE! Lots of feedback brings lots of chapters. Man, I must really love you guys. Two chapters in a row!


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot, Morrien, and the Eye of Jodgr

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think of something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: AHAH! Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS GONNA WRITE OUT THE FIGHT SCENE! No, I wasn't really in the mood for writing out the entire fight scene. That would have taken FOREVER. Besides, I'd basically be illustrating the same thing over and over again.

Chapter 7

"Miss Morrien," a meek breeze of a voice catches her ear. "Miss Morrien?"

She raises her head from the bent position a top His stomach. She turns her head to stare at the trembling girl by the door. Her face blank, but her eyes set in cold murder. "Speak."

"B-begging your pardon, Miss," the girl bows her head quickly, both in respect and to avoid Morrien's harsh gaze. "T-the Lord Marshal requests t-that y-y-you come join him f-f-for-"

Her patience wearing thing, Morrien snarks, "For dinner?"

"Y-y-yes, M-m-"

"Tell him that I must respectfully decline. My apologies and I hope he enjoys his meal. Leave," is Morrien's final command. She turns back to Him, holding His hand and rainning a few butterfly kisses on them.

"B-but, Miss! You m-must eat. You're wearing yourself away th-thin in here. P-please, c-come eat, Miss," the girl tries to boldly plea to Morrien's solid careless back.

"Leave."

The girl flinches, sinking away into herself at the gravity of the terse response. "P-please, Miss," she attempts one more time.

Morrien whirls on her, "Leave! Or I won't be so kind the next time! The Lord Marshal may dine alone or with anyone else he pleases, but me. I feel no hunger, so I shall not consume. Leave me be. If the Lord Marshal is so adamant that I join him, then he may come and present the invitation himself!" Morrien growls. She is seething, looming over the girl with her lips curled back to bare her sharp, vampiric teeth. Gifts from her alteration, made so that she could be even more of the feline species.

The girl squeaks. She slaps her own hand over her mouth and flees. Her sobs could be heard by Morrien as she dashes down the corridor.

Morrien snarls one last time at the door before dropping herself heavily onto the chair beside His bed. She takes her beloved's hand once again, placing a delicate kiss upon it, she speaks, "Do you see me, Father? See me still? It's your Mistress Feline, Holy Purifier. Can you see, hear, touch, smell? Father?" Her lip trembles and salty droplets escape from behind her lashes, "My lord?" she whispers. The silence breaks the dam within her. Her sorrow spills out, her body wracked with tremors, Morrien allosw her first real sob, breaking her tradition of silent weeping.

/break/

A few days roll by until Morrien finally says anything more than apologies and the professions of her love. "My lord," she whispers delicately in His ear, leaning close until her lips brushes the shell of His ear, she is uttering to Him a secret. "My lord," she mumurs again, as if to softly waken him from a natural slumber. Morrien clasps her hands together as if to pray, her lips still pressed to his lobe. "I must confess to you. There is forbidden knowledge that I wish to grace you with before your time here is done. It is truly forbidden as in every sense of the word. Only an unfortunate, selected few are cursed with this suffering within the entire Universe. The one who came before me has too vanished into the oblivion beyond. I do not pass to you, merely inform you, convey to you the source of my soul consuming pain. I hope that with this knowledge you can find all the loves of my past and ease their aching spirits. I know they ache because they had been taken by an unnatural circumstance."

'Is my case not unnatural?' he mentally whispers back ot her.

"However, you shall be of a different kind. Unnatural is your...passing, but you will carry this knowledge. You will be granted allowance." Morrien pauses. "This will be a long story. To which it shall stretch a multiple amount of days." She moves to kiss his temple, not to show him affection, but rather to give herself a reassureance. "Love me now, faithful love me later."

'Always...'

"Every story must start at the beginning. I was born. I was raised. I was taken. I had been stolen from my crib at the tender age of five. It was terrifying, but I was too young to remember it now. Or maybe too painful to remember. They could have been repressed or erased. I do not know. There is only darkness when I try to think back to it. My entire family had been annihilated. I am the descendant of a noble family, directly from a line of royalty. All relatives, cousins, aunts, uncles, and distant grandparents, lived within one incredibly large compound. So large a family that it was its own a community. I remember a few first, second, third, far distant cousins that I either knew personally or by sight that were taken as well. All girls between the ages of seven to ten. I was the only five year old. I was taken for a special experiment. They would be conditioned into the cattle that I slaughtered.

"I was created with the greatest goal in mind, ultimate killer. I was to be what people now call a silencer and what people before called an assassin. They pumped me with chemicals and fused my bones with metals. They created some sort of hybrid out of me. I have animal blood in me. The reason why I am so able to make connections that only animals can make. The capacity of flexibility and the acute senses, largely taken from the animal blood. The chemicals are what keep me alive.

"So, time passed. At the bare age of six the changes made to my body were stable. Let me remind you that the pain was entirely of another world. I don't remember it, but I know that it was there. After stability, I was tested, age ten, I was ready for conditioning. The entire time I was tested had been with convicted men, sentenced to life imprisonment or death. I had also been tested with exotic, predatory creatures of various planets. In conditioning which I finished at age eleven, I destroyed half of my sisters that had been taken. Half of the half modified, the other half of the half had been conditioned and exercised until the point of mindless killers. I ended the lives of each girl. After the conditioning was the trials and lessons.

"The other half of my female kin were displayed to me. Age thirteen and I had erased them too, but that had been the trials. The lessons were vicious beatings by another of my kind. Male, tall, and a good five years older. I was being taught to stay in line. He was my master. I was passed on to him by his father. His name was Dietra.

"It was his father who had started the whole operation, but he hadn't been very smart. He didn't know how to keep Dietra in line. Dietra bidded his time and then he overthrew his father. Dietra knew how to keep me in line, after learning from his father's mistakes. I became his servant, taking to his every whim. He made me his silent slave.

"There was something clever about him. Most men, no matter how old, love to flaunt their power and accessories. He did no such thing. He planned carefully. He would only allow a certain amount of freedom among his men. He did not have one confidant. He had many. He had so many that most did not know each other. His secrets were spread out in a gigantic web. No one was able to piece anything together.

"Dietra kept me away from prying eyes. In fact, he kept himself from prying eyes. He gave me a spacious room, modest for a servant, luxury for a slave. It was my cage. Dietra only allowed me out for exercise and jobs. He never let me close to him. He allowed me to stand near if I was ever out of my cage, but I was nothing personal to him. Not a personal maid, chamber slave, or bed warmer. He only took me once to claim his stakes. I was only a weapon to him.

"For years and years I thought there were no flaws or escapes, however I found a way. I made him guilty. It was risky. Very much so. I began to pine for him, try to make him believe he had total control. I tried to make him careless by believing in my false love. It made him suspicious. I started the game at sixteen years and continued it until nineteen. I hoped that he would let down some measure of his guard. I succeeded. In the end, it wasn't enough, so I used what I had and tried a different method. I let a kill go wrong. Horribly so. I left behind evidence. I made a small streak of my blood adorn the wall, just above the murder victim's head.

"Personel of all sorts scrambled to find out who I was. They found my past identity. The girl of the royal compound, its massacre and missing daughters. They found the result of enhancement chemicals in my blood. The only thing they could not find was my whereabouts, but they dug and looked hard. What they found, he found. Dietra punished me terribly. Some of which I cannot remember even now.

"I was beaten. The traditional way. I was beaten miserably and because I heal so rapidly, the pain was nearly unbearable. Dietra would break a bone, let it heal in a matter of two days and then break it again in the same, exact point. Over and over again he did this. On my days of incapacitation he would force me to study and study very hard. If I did not meet his standards or beyond, I would be beaten even more harshly. I was pushed to the limit in my exercises and simulation obstacles.

"Dietra had confidence in his fortress upholding. He was absolutely confident that the..."authorities" could not find him. He was right, for several years. He would not allow me to do any jobs after that last mistake. No, I was pushed harder than I had ever been before. He even resorted to just plainly torturing me at times. I did not receive another job until age twenty two.

"'My last chance,' I thought to myself on the job. I would have left another clue if it had not been for Dietra himself. He still could not trust me. He trailed me on all my jobs. He wanted to keep me on a tight leash. Finally at age twenty three, he decided he wanted a fall back project if I ever became..."defective". He attempted to impregnate me. Not through the "barbaric" means of "animal rutting". Oh no, he had science. Cold, dry, long needles, tubes, and parting tools. He even had scalpels and threads ready near by in case the preferred method was producing no results or was just taking too long.

"My last chance did come and I did take it. Dietra sent me on a simple recon mission. I left trails of my blood everywhere as I was tracking myself back to the base. I made sure not to make contact with the enemy, but leave enough evidence behind that they would come searching. I lured the enemy out, leading them behind me by mere meters. Needless to say that Dietra's fortress was demolished. I had stayed in the safer outside as the enemies and "officials" worked their way into Dietra's base. I only stayed long enough to watch them begin the destruction. I quickly fled. I received news via gossip about the leveling of Dietra's stronghold. I knew that Dietra had escaped and would come looking for me, no matter the amount of scandalous prattling that said otherwise.

"I became desperate. I needed to find a place. A place that was out of all reach. Bouncing from galaxy to galaxy did not bode well. I was out in the open and Dietra could find me. I started collecting legends and myths. I knew that if I could chase after an artifact hard enough, I would find it." Morrien falls silent, seeming to just notice that she had taken to telling her story so deeply. She sighs and lays her head upon the bedside.

'You chose the eye of Jodgr,' He responds telepathically, to receive no reply from her.

Morrien frowns. She raises herself to examine her lord's face. "Look at you so peaceful, Father. I wish I could have as much peace as you. The day has worn long. I will tell some more another time. I'm sorry, my lord. I wish there could have been another way. I have costed you dearly. Forgive this poor dumb girl." Her expression becomes ill at the thought. "I am afraid that I have shared your medical bed long enough. Sleep well, Father Mine. I will come to brave you another tale at another time. Rest..." A lone tear streaks down from the corner of Morrien's eye. She brushes it aside quickly and rises to leave. She quickly blows Him a kiss before disappearing behind the door finally.

'My darling Morrien...' is all He can phathom within this bleak, comatosed state. 'My darling with the dying spirit.'

A/N: Okay, this chapter has been a little shorter than the rest because it has A LOT of information. I don't want to give it all away too much. So yeah. Y'all need to review more, damn it! I totally don't feel loved at all! Thank you to those who do review though. This chapter has been VERY dear to me because I had to convey most of Morrien's emotions through her words instead of description. I know that in the end it sounded very...blunt and just plain story telling, but it's understandable. Morrien has made herself cold to her past. She's a solid rock whenever she tells. However, she is still uncomfortable with the whole telling, so I HOPE you guys were able to perceive that. It was HELL trying to write this friggin' chapter. I kept thinking should I continue or should I stop? Am I telling too much or not enough? I had actually finished this chapter a while ago, but had been contemplating over those earlier questions for a while. I just wasn't quite sure where to start or stop and how much to give. I'll stop my ramblings. REVIEW! THEY SUSTAIN ME! I NEED THEM! REVIEW DAMN IT! OR ELSE I'LL PUT THIS FIC ON HIATUS!


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot, Morrien, and the Eye of Jodgr

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned. READ THE A/N AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER. IMPORTANTE!

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think og something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

Chapter 8

Two and a half weeks have come and gone. Two and a half weeks since his encounter with the rebel force. Two weeks and two days since Morrien had sought and acquired vengeance. One week and one day since Morrien had challenged Commander Vaako. And finally, it has been four days since Morrien had begun to tell her story.

His time is falling even shorter. She knows it, He knows it, everyone knows it. He could feel it in the air. Life just seems to be getting paler and paler for him. There's nothing left for him. It is as if Death itself is murmuring encouragements to him. "Pass the thresold," it says. "Pass on, your time is not long. You have nothing left. Everything is growing dim. Pass on." However, He continues to hold fast. He must, He must drag on for His love. He must linger until she is able to bear the misery.

By a miracle His eyes flutter open. There, before Him, lies the resting head of His dearest. Her hands are protectively clasped around his right hand and her head lolls atop the flat of his stomach. In turn, this causes His hand to be clutched against her small, girlish bosom. For a moment, He catches Himself wondering how a full grown woman like this could be so little and child-like in appearance. He shrugs it off as a testament of her enhancement. She clearly needs to be rather spry to hold her current occupation. Stirring upon His belly awakens Him from His thoughts.

Morrien sits up straight and examines her lord through sleep weary eyes. "Father," Morrien mumurs softly. She ghosts her fingertips along the side of His face. With one last slumber drugged yawn and sigh she becomes the alert, stalkish creature she was made to be. Sorrow is the only blemish to that great scheme, however it is not a mark that He is unapproving of.

"It seems that your time is beginning to run short, my lord," Morrien whispers, a haunted spirit behind her eyes. "I believe now would be a very opportuned moment to illustrate more of my ghosts to you. One such phantom was Lyrre.

"No, that is not how I wish to begin. You have known many a' men in your life, my lord. Either through literature or in personal meetings. Dietra's father was a corrupt man. The type you would find exaggerated in literature and the kind that you would see as sly skulker in person. He was every bit a king directing behind his general and a massive fortress. A ruler who never dared to fight with honor along side his army. A cowardly man who became even more so by hiding behind his mistress.

"His mistress, Lyrre, was his direct sword and servant. All that he needed to be done outside of his fortress was done by her. It was she who snatched up my sisters and myself in the knight. It was she who slaughtered all of my kin. It was she who commanded the chemicals to be pumped into my body. It was she who turned my sisters into mindless animals for my hand to destroy. It was she who bedded the man that was the seed of my misery. They were both vile snakes who fed off of each other. They were my grief before Dietra.

"There is not much else to tell about Lyrre. I had always been revolved by her. She was the epitome of servile whore. She was my tormenter and haunter. Now that my mind is set upon her, I can fathom little else about her other than she had been the butcher of my life and self.

"She had been one of the first to die after Dietra had slain his father. She had begged him for mercy. She even tried to seduce him, but he could not be as easily swayed as his father had been. She pleaded him to allow her to continue on as my...caretaker. He refused her. He gutted her. From shoulder to hip; deep so that all of her internals were spilled. I saw it. It was a beautiful sight for such sore eyes. I almost had hope. That quickly died when Dietra ordered his plans of my future into action."

Morrien pauses here to look around, focusing on everything around her. Her eyes narrow to sharpen and her head quirks from side to side, as if listening for some invisible sound. Her tense body relaxes, or at least it relaxes as much as a silencer's body can truly relax. Morrien turns her gaze back to the greatest man of her very short life. "I know your time is short, my lord, but it would seem that there is something amiss aboard. I believe there is a vengeful carrion here. I will return in a moment. I should see to disposing of this putrid scheme." Morrien quickly dismisses herself with a loving pat to His hand.

/Break/

As Morrien nears a corner in the cooridor, she halts. A small, mousy girl rushes around said corner and nearly runs headlong into Morrien. The girl jumps, stumbles back, and bows low. Clearly, she is a servant. "M-miss Morrien!" the girl squeaks.

Morrien studies the girl careful. A small inclination of her head is the only sign to the girl that she is attentive. Such an action is no surprise to most of the inhabitants of the Basilica. Her grief has turned her very tight lipped. Rarely does she ever speak to another besides her adopted father.

"I-I was j-just about to c-come for you. You've been s-summoned," the girl recites breathily, fear dripping from every pore of her delicate flesh. "B-by Dame Vaako," the servant girl rapidly adds when Morrien gives no indication of moving.

The slow narrowing of Morrien's eyes is all the girl needs to know that she isn't pleased. A reckless, fast wave of Morrien's hand causes the little servant to squeal and cringe. Morrien breezes pass the girl, not caring whether the girl understood the hand gesture. When she reaches ten paces away, the girl skitters in the opposite direction, she understood after all.

/Break/

"Come in."

Morrien enters the room swiftly, shutting the door behind her quietly. She stands before it to gaze on at the woman who had called for her. Morrien's eyes shift from the back of the woman's head, to the mirror, where she could see the reflection of the woman's face.

"Morrien..." Dame Vaako purrs as she looks at Morrien's reflection. She is seated before her vanity table. A large mirror is set atop it. The table and her back faces the door. "I heard about the terrible murder of the Head Purifier. It is a sad account for all aboard this vessel."

"He is not yet dead...milady," Morrien almost seethes. She includes the respect at the end of her sentence to remind herself not to do anything drastic to the woman. 'A vile snake she is, but still a royal snake.'

Madam Vaako's lips quirk into a smug smile, she chooses to ignore Morrien's comment. She allows her expression to fall once again into a false sorrow. "My condolences to you." Dame Vaako turns from her vanity to gaze at Morrien directly in the eye. "I know how you both were so dear to each other." She absently brushes a strand of her long hair trailing down over her shoulder.

Morrien's jaw twitches, the desire to clench her teeth very strong, but she resists. Dame Vaako is using these past tenses to get a raise out of her and possibly to torture her in her most vulnerable moments. Deciding that she would not play by this woman's game she replies, "We are." Present tense just in spite of the devil woman. "Forgive my curiosity. I see it difficult to believe that you have summoned me only to recite your pity."

"No, no. Not pity. Sympathy. My melancholy. No, I did not only summon you here to offer solace." Dame Vaako stands, shrugging the very sheer robe that had once hung around her shoulders onto the floor. She saunters forward, towards Morrien in an almost sultry, seductive kind of a way. Everything about this woman is completely reptilian. "I called you here to...declare a peace." Lady Vaako finally halts a mere foot from Morrien. Her hand raises to brush the tips of her fingers ever so lightly along the smooth surface of Morrien's girlish face. "A peace and...much more. Come then, Morrien, surrender yourself to me. I will embrace you in ways you've never been. Your body will burn for my touch and your soul will yearn for mine."

Morrien's eyes snap open from their half lidded glare. "You speak such words to me when my lord is riddled with dust in his deathbed!" she seethes, almost caught speechless.

"It is because he is difting to the Underverse in that bed that I am proposing like this!" Dame Vaako snaps right back. "I give you a sanctuary from the pain! Dare you not to disrespect me with your crude tongue, girl!"

For a moment, Morrien returns a challenging stare to Madam Vaako's deathly glare, but she adverts her gaze for better judgement. "You are generous, however I must decline."

"You protest too much," Lady Vaako growls, shaking her head, clearly tempted to throw her hands in the air. She turns from Morrien and seats herself comfortably upon a large, plush, maroon colored couch. She is stretched out on, an arm sprawled across its back, and her ankles crossed. Dame Vaako watches Morrien heatedly.

"I protest none too much," Morrien replies with a stony frown. She returns Dame Vaako's hot look with her own, not realy to surrender. Though she is tempted, Morrien cannot allow herself this easy path of cowardice. She stays at her place beside the door, not daring to move forward. This is a shiny proposition and Morrien can feel herself being drawn like a bird.

Morrien watches as Lady Vaako breathes deeply, calming herself considerably. "You are dismissed then." Madam Vaako waves her hand idly. As Morrien opens the door to leave, Dame Vaako says to her back, "I will still be here when he isn't."

Morrien pauses for only a second. She inclines her head scarcely and exits the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Morrien has no intention of taking up this offer. Dame Vaako is a poisonous snake waiting to pounce. There's too much danger in a woman like her. Morrien will not concede.

A/N: I know what you're all thinking. "WHAT THE HELL!?" is probably going through your head, or something like that. Totally understandable if you don't get why I went in this direction, heck, I hardly know why I went in this direction. It just happened upon me as I wrote it. I really had NO desire to do this, but it sprang on me and I think it's a wonderful idea. I'll try to elaborate more on this soon so that this scene will have a purpose. I'm really doing this as I go along and the characters are writing themselves.

Anyways, IF you have any problems with a possible lesbian action going on between Dame Vaako and Morrien, then I suggest you haul ass. I will not stand for any flames. I will, however, welcome POLITE opinions WITH constructive criticism. If you're REALLY confused beyong all measure, then let me know and I will gladly explain things for you.

This chapter was short. Yes. I wanted to get something out there, but I didn't want to go back into giving information. I wanted to spice things up and throw in a twist. I may concentrate on this...sitatuation a little more before going back to story telling. Hope you all enjoyed. REVIEW! Or else I'll...I'll...DO SOMETHING BAD! Just review! I need them to keep me going!


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot, Morrien, the Eye of Jodgr, and any other character that is not within the CoR world.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and also take notice that this story is now a tragedy. It MAY have a happy ending, but there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

Chapter 9

A heavy, somber sigh. "His time is soon. What shall you do then?" Eyes stare into the abyssmal black, seeing, but unseeing all together.

A bare murmur. "Fate shall decide for me as she sees fit." Lips pressed tightly together into a discomforted line.

An inclination of the head. "Will you be able?"

"Must you mock me?" Brows furrow with some aggitation. "A true silencer may never be deemed unable unless they themselves have been silenced by the black hand. Even then, there are the rare few who have conquered over such a holy impossibility. I am one of the elite of my kind. I was made that way." A flat gaze from nearly dead eyes. "I shall carry any task you wish to burden me."

A crook of a smile upon the face of pleased authority. "So be it."

"So be it indeed."

/Break/

A ghost along His hand causes His eyes to flicker. He stares through a veil of lashes. His dearest has returned. He has been waiting with vigil. How His heart mourns the distance and aches with the knowledge that the distance will stretch into an impossible beyond. "Morrien," He wishes to murmur to her. "Be still, darling, and let your sorrows ebb away." The lock of Fate will not budge her hand. He cannot utter a single word.

"Father Purifier," Morrien speaks to Him gently, softly, quietly. She dares not speak any louder, as if completely shattering this silence shall push Him further into the bleak nothingness that He is doomed for. "I have come bearing more stories. Will you hear me?"

'Yes,' He tries to say, only to, as usual, be met with silence. Another waving sadness for His poor soul as He watches her waste away as He does. Her grief is His grief and His grief is her grief. They are both dying.

"Of course, so foolish of me to ask." Morrien bows her head. "You cannot reply." Morrien smiles to Him, a smile that is only a stetch of the mouth and nothing more. No other features are able to make this movement real. "I wish I could beseech Fate and Destiny to turn your time away. Only to have attempted without consent and brought their wrath down upon you even more cruel than what your originated plan had been."

Morrien does not bother to hide or keep herself in control. She allows the tears and sobs to flow freely, too exhausted to hold a pretense of cold distance. "I almost damn my creators for allowing me to cry, but it has its tactical uses in the field. My past masters had also enjoyed my tears. I am somewhat disgusted by my own weeping, however...not to weep would feel as if I am not able to express to you how deeply troubled I am, not able to mourn for you, not able to love you as you are here or as if you were...gone." She allows a rather loud sob, "I cannot say it. I cannot say that you will...I cannot."

Another pained whimper escapes her lips. "I had thought the phrase, 'It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,' was true. I had been so lost. So gone and alone and I yearned so much for any sort of kinship. I could not allow myself to be a cold shell. Like the artificial silencer I had once been before plots had found me. Oh, but tis a disquieted ramble. I have come to tell you more, I shall see to it that I do proceed in such a fashion."

"Ah, I told you before of how I sought a means of total escape from Dietra. I discovered legends and myths. I chased them. I finally stumbled across the Eye of Jodgr. It is an artifact only destined for the most primal and with hardened souls. It is not a peaceful artifact. One that torments and tears one's being. I threw myself into the search for the Eye. I had nothing to lose. I needed a way.

"I finally found myself on a deserted planet. An amazonian planet filled with heated jungles and creatures that would swallow you whole. A person must be agile, clever, strong, and quick to be able to survive such a place. I was nimble enough to pick my way through the hazardous land for a month before the fruits of my labor were born. Though I found the environment difficult for even me. I do not do well with humidity for long periods of time. If it were merely a scorching heat, I can go many a days without fail. However, the sticky torridness was my downfall.

"The Eye of Jodgr had found its way into a cat. A large carnivorous feline taking the size of twice my height. It was an animal that would have scared any man into rapid submission. I had nothing to lose, so I could not fear. I had only my hope.

"This creature I had come upon, had no name. I could not identify with all my knowledge of what type of animal it was besides a feline, so I simply named it after its keepsake, Jodgr. Being such a behemoth there were no other large animals for many leagues. Jodgr held a strong territory. Only prey and creatures too small to be noticed inhabitted the area.

"Jodgr didn't attack me out right when he first laid eyes upon me. In fact, he turned away from me. It was not until much later that I discovered that he possessed the Eye of Jodgr. Many a times my skill could not provide for me. I was made a poor prop for the treacherous land. Jodgr stepped in each time to save me. It was truly a blessing, I believed. I was given no love from this beast, only a kind of animalistic kinship. A companion to be near. I came to hold a fondness for Jodgr. After a few first chance meetings, I stayed by his side and he kept me close, not allowing me to venture far or long. For such a large creature he had every intention of a mother hen. It drove me quite wild with laughter many times when I thought back to it.

"I do not know the full knowledge of the Eye. Only rumors and my own experiences really give me any tender. Had I known what was to come, I may not have attempted to conquer it. The Eye, as been told by mouth and ear, does endow the ability of foresight. The innuendo of gift is all but a sham. No gift was I bestowed, but a curse. 'Hath a man the facilties to envisage, then so he bears no morrow.' A quip in the voice of old that speaks truer than anything I have ever known. This curse gives me acute anticipation that can only be wavered, but never changed. To the very end, I hold no fruit of subsequent time. I see and I have nothing."

Morrien halts all speech at this point, abruptly realizing what she has just admitted. A bitter laugh escapes her. "Do you see, my love?" she whispers with a hissing undertone. "I fortold your death." Morrien loses herself in a fit of giggles. It is all an estranged occassion. Salty guilt and grief streams from her mouth and eyes. Her guilt and grief quickly takes to a frantic hysteria. "I didn't want you to die. I couldn't let you die. I had come to love you so. For my own selfishness, I kept you. I threw away Fate's deathly hand for grand total of two months. I could not let you go. My own foolishness thrusted me into a frenzy of plans and theories. I beseeched the Lord Marshall to end his quest for the simple breeder named Riddick. I had ultimately made your suffering so much more. Here you lie with no sense of the world, but my own voice. You wear thin and your existance continues to wane away." Morrien is sobbing now. Her weeping is ferocious. Liquids continue to pour out of her and her voice has lost all semblance of its usual calm and calculated measure. The sound slipping from between her lips is drenched and heavy. She is no longer a silencer. She is now but a mere girl in desperate misery.

"Your suffering has intensified twice of what your true death would have been at Destiny's doing two months prior. Had I left you to be, you would have delivered upon yourself your own end on a scorching planet that would have taken everything of you and left nothing left for myself, all to give a message. So much would have been lost to be before, I could not bear to be idle. My own wretchedness has bedridden you. Forgive me, Father mine. I beg forgiveness for yielding to you this torment." Morrien falls to her knees and clutches His hand. She clings to it as if it is her only lifeline. "Forgive this shabby and dolorous girl for her misgivings. I tried so hard, I should have known that no power in this Verse could persuade the intent of Fate." A tragedy strained wail tears from Morrien's throat as she is given no reply. Her howls of anguish could reach even the ears of the Lord Marshal from his throne. No soul upon the Basilica can escape Morrien's lamenting.

/Break/

She charges down the corridor, desperate to find some sort of sanctuary away from the cruel world only to stop in a dead halt. "No," Morrien whimpers. "No!" she screams for forcefully. "You couldn't have found me! You don't belong here! This is my world! Get out! Get out! Leave me be!"

"Don't you know, Solique? You belong to me. And until the day I die, I will always find you, and you will always be my slave."

"No!" Morrien screams and dashes in the other direction. She must run. Run and hide. Run and hide away from Him. Away from the tormentor of her soul.

"You will never be able to avoid me! I will find you! You will be mine again!"

"No!" And all goes black.

/Break/

She bolts out of bed with a shriek in her throat. She throws herself against the wall farthest away. Her eyes wide, her body ridged, her heart pounding, her breath raspy, and the whole demeanor of a frightened to death animal. She stares into the dim. Her eyes dart about, examining every aspect of the room to determine her safety. Finally, the paranoia allows her easy breath.

Morrien sinks to her knees, back pressed to the wall. "What is to be done with me?" she murmurs softly. Her eye shut of their own accord. She breaths slowly and shallowly. Her muscles relax completely for just a moment. "May Dietra never discover me." All goes black.

A/N: I'm sorry everyone...I screwed up the timeline. I didn't take into every account aspect of CoR. My mistake and I'm paying for it dearly. So I'm currently at a loss in directions. I just received an email telling me to get my ass back on track, but I can't because I'm trying to work around the screw up in the timeline. Fear not, my darlings, I will find a way. No, I have not been away so long because I was picking my butt. I was trying to move the story into a workable direction, a.k.a. writer's block. Then I bought the CoR trilogy and discovered a gap in my timeline while watching CoR with commentary. Yes, I do watch the commentary versions. I messed up, trying to fix it.

In the meantime, I have posted what I have. This is not the full extent of Chapter 9 by far, but I can't get any further, so Chapter 9 as been cut short. HOWEVER, I did get hit by an idea. I tried to apply it to the end here, only to remember that time in my story is crucial. . SO! I will work something into it. The stuff in the end is also to spice up the story a little more. Give you all something to expect/anticipate. Bear with me, lovies. I have not forgotten you or this story. It's just that when you screw up as royally as I did, you have to sit back and ponder about it...for a really long time. I currently see no course of action that can be taken without making this story unnatural. My love to you all, I hope I can pull something out of thin air and make it rich.


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot, Morrien, the Eye of Jodgr, Jodgr, Dietra, and anyone else who shows up in Morrien's past.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: I'm sorry! I have failed you! I have left this piece to sit and fester for so long! I beg forgiveness! Part of it is due to my one very long hospital visit and then to my rather many short hospital visits after that. Yesssss, I was on my deathbed...not literally. I had surgery and had to go to many follow up appointments and such. Blah! I've also failed you all because I HAVE NOT FOUND THE SOLUTION! I've gone in circles trying to create some sort of bridge to connect the screwed up dots! But alas...I have not been able to find the answer. I'm sorry. I must live with my screw up. I am in NO WAY going to rewrite ANYTHING. Nooooope. I'm going to take the chicken-shit way out and hail artistic license! Yes, I know, very cowardly of me, but I can't find any way around my mess up in the time-line. Fear not! I, however, can still spice up the story. In light of my mistake, I will throw in many twists, turns, and action. In hopes that this will...amend for a few things.

Chapter 10

Morrien awakens with a shock. Cursing, she bolts upright, and leaves her room in a flurry of billowing cloth. Morrien pulls the flowing robe tighter around her body as she steps into the medical room. She sinks to her knees before the doomed man.

"Oh, my lord. T'is but a dream that has me so vexed. A dream that perceives the future and created by my ever distraught mind. Fear has sent me to your bedside now, crouching as the pathetic and whimsical girl that I am. Oh, how this silencer has fear like no other. Forgive me for my weakness. This is not a cautious fear, but a fear that eats away at my very soul. I jump at every shadow and I shirk away from every unventured corner. This fear has turned the tables on me. It is now the predator that lurks in the midnight black, stalking the doe eyed prey that I am. I am at a constant wish to grasp my own heart and still it with my own hand because it beats so erratically that I am sure the soldiers based on the other side of the Basilica can hear it so loud and crystalline."

Salty little droplets splash as they land on Morrien's hands and the bed, descended from her eyes. "Only to you can I confess of this maddening force within my core. Do not find me cowardly for I already do. Dietra is coming upon me. I know it now more than anything that Fate has it in for me to be punished. I have yet again thwarted destined deaths, but this time, I have changed the course for too many. Destiny wishes me in the hands of Dietra. I can deny it no longer. Forgive me for abandoning you in your time of need, my ever loved lord." Placing a loving and despairing kiss upon His forehead, she rises from her place at his side and leaves. "Three weeks in your second month, my time has come," Morrien murmurs as she leaves His room.

/Break/

The next few hours finds Morrien stalking the entire Basilica, going from room to room with a predator's determination, however, this air has lost its steam. Much of the electric heat that radiates from Morrien's being has faded. She makes no effort to be unseen, but makes no effort to be seen, she is merely being. From room to room she goes, searching.

The Dame Vaako sees her once or twice, but Morrien barely bats an eye in her direction. She simply breezes by, ignoring the lady or higher stature. Dame Vaako in turn, utters no words, but watches Morrien, calculating. Maybe she is sorting through her thoughts and is coming closer to taking Lady Vaako's generous offer?

The Lord Marshal sees her several times more than the Dame because she often found sweeping through war rooms. Flitting by generals and councilmen with little care, just a feather on the wind. She does not disturb anyone, she does not turn her attention to them, and she barely makes a sound. The only thing that ever marks her passing is the sight of her at the corner of one's eye, slipping behind a corner, or just sailing by another man. The Lord Marshal makes little notes of Morrien's activities, judging when she may come out of this depressed stupor.

Commander Vaako himself, on the other hand, never sees her. He does not realize that she is waltzing through the entire Basilica. In fact, he has not seen her since his confrontation with her within the training areas of the Necro Soldiers. He has paid little mind to her absence, leaving it to her being at the Former Head Purifier's bedside. Vaako only finds himself pondering her every so often. Will she be doing her duty soon? Will the Former Head Purifier shed his human shell and descend for the Underverse before all other Necromongers soon? Will Morrien survive the sorrow? Is she the warrior she had displayed herself in their confrontation? Will she still be the same warrior after? Little things like that. Vaako offers little profit towards Morrien, just every so often thinking on her. After all, he is a commander now. One of great importance and many duties. He has little time to ponder on this slip of a girl who had barely bested him in a match and had this spark in her eyes that told him that she is a kindred spirit. No, too many duties indeed.

/Break/

"Ascension is in a mere few hours. Pull in all numbers. Make sure every recon ship is accounted for," Vaako warrants of the Necromonger captains under his command.

"Yes, My Lord." In unison they go to do as he dictates.

Vaako turns to go, intended on reporting to the Lord Marshal, only to be met with startlement. "Lord Vaako," the source of his temporary shock purrs, pulling on the a's of his name. Giving him little time to speak in reply, this sultry voice continues, "Would you spare me a word?"

The surprise had only been a moment and Vaako studies the one requesting his attention with his usual grim and stony demeanor. A matter of three seconds pass before Vaako slowly nods. "A moment, Morrien," he allows as gently as his position and character allow him in this serious state. He supposes he can strike up a softer conversation in light of her miserable situation. Yes, he is only giving her this more hospitable tone for the sake of her sad business.

A slow inclination of her head expresses Morrien's thanks. "There is a matter I would like to discuss," Morrien murmurs, drawing to a short linger at the end of this sentence, but then shakes her head. "No, no, not discuss. No, this matter is not for discussion. Ah, within my mind I was put at ease, but as the words pass my lips, I find fault. No, no, no..." Morrien mutters to herself. Her earlier confidence and swagger has ebbed to give way to an unsure reaction. A strange act for this usually so vibrant feline. It must be her misery, yes, her misery indeed.

Vaako raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should approach me when your thoughts are more clear."

"No, no," Morrien quickly amends. "No, I cannot allow this matter to delay." Pause. "I would like to announce peace. I tire of this tension among us of the same faith and I wish to put it to rest. This humble silencing girl so beseeches of my lord to forgive past misgivings and start a new kind alliance."

Vaako's brow remains lifted. He examines the fragile lines of Morrien's girlish face for any sort of "misgivings" and finds none that can be deciphers. "This is no false ploy?"

"Ploy!" Morrien exclaims in surprise. "No ploy and not one of falsehood, I assure you, Lord Vaako." Morrien bows her head and sighs as if almost exasperated. "My time is wearing thin. I had hoped that we could be on better circumstances before the end."

The alarms sound in Vaako's mind. "What end?"

Morrien snaps to attention, a somewhat surprised expression flits across her countenance. "Oh, why, my end, of course," she replies, making her answer the simplest and clearest in the universe.

"Your end? Why would you have an end? Are you contemplating a plot of cowardice?" Vaako's brows furrow in both anger and concern...no, in anger, just anger. He is angry with Morrien's cowardly decision. It is shameful of a Necromonger to choose death when not in the face of battle.

"Never. No, I mean my ending to this story. Each story has an ending and each ending is a beginning. This particular story is coming to an end. My story, that is. This ending will be undoubtedly chaotic."

"You speak in endless riddles," Vaako states in frustration. He is about ready to push pass her, miserable situation or not, he will not take to this inane insanity.

"Yes and no, however, that is no issue. Commander Vaako," she says his name airily. "I hold you in high regard. You have a potential for a great many things. I see absolute glory and absolute devastation in your future. It has yet to be decided, but I warn you. Devastation will only come if you allow venom from fangs and a forked tongue to poison your mind. Do not let yourself be led by words, but only by passion in both mind, heart, and loyalty. Be careful with your obedience." Morrien pauses and then opens her mouth to utter something more, but closes it. She waves her hand dismissfully. "Ah, never you mind trivial things. I take my leave. I hope you fare well in your days to come," Morrien slights her body in his direction just so much in courtesy and breezes out of the room. Leaving Vaako behind to be perplexed.

He watches her go, carefully analyzing her every movement. From the fluidity of her shoulders, relaxed and ready to move in a predator's grace. To the lightness of which her feet touch the hard metal floors, that so easily echo the noise of any pressure upon them, yet whisper not even the smallest of sounds from her. To the slow and seductive unconscious sway of her hips that allow her the flexibility of almost every acrobatic maneuver. Yes, she is a predator indeed Vaako admits to himself. Perhaps he should visit his wife. Yes, Vaako will most definitely go visit his wife. All thoughts of reporting to the Lord Marshal flee from his mind as he goes to catch the Dame alone.

A/N: Yes! I'm so proud of myself! I finally got this out! I've been meaning to incorporate a few things into the story and just had not found the right timing for it, but I have now! I didn't quite want to end the chapter here, partially for you all because I feel so guilty for being gone for so long, but partially because I had more to put down. Ah, I think it's better to end the chapter on this note though. I'll have the next chapter out within the next two weeks. It's going to be a short chapter though, I warn you. It's the little bit that I wanted to add at the end of this chapter, but it just wouldn't work right, so I'm going to make it a chapter of its own. Then I'll have more excitement. I tried to make this chapter end on a lighter tone, did it work? This is a serious story though, so it'll be getting back to the seriousness soon. Okay, so review and what not. I will try to get the next chapter out by this weekend if I can, but if not then next week. My schedule is still hectic with my many follow up appointments at the hospital. Ta, Lovies! I have not forgotten you!

P.S. I'm sooooo sorry for all the spelling errors! Sometimes I don't catch them when I proofread, sorry! It's because my Microsoft Word is messed up, so I've been using Notepad, which doesn't have spell check. '' Sorry!


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot, Morrien, the Eye of Jodgr, Jodgr, Dietra, and anyone else who shows up in Morrien's past.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

Chapter 11

Creeping through the darkness, through silent halls, past unknowing eyes, the goal is to find her. An intruder is searching within the Basilica, unnoticed. The stranger, who is not so strange at all, finds her meditating quietly upon the ground surrounded by mountains of books.

"I knew you were coming for me. I knew you would find me," Morrien whispers. Her eyes open and she draws them across smooth skin, angular juts of jaw and cheek bones, firm lips pressed into a thin line, and handsome brows. She dares not make eye contact. All would be lost and the fear she had pushed down so deep with all her strength would come bursting through, flooding and crashing down upon the gates. "I knew you would never just leave me if you had the opportunity to strike me down."

"You didn't put very much effort into acting on not being found. You became comfortable and lax after those months of no signs of pursuit. Not very wise of you, my dearest specimen. I taught you better than that," the handsome not so much of a stranger lifts a royal brow, only showing traces of some amusement and a bit of disappointment.

"So you did," Morrien replies with a small nod. "But I cannot stop fate. Fate has it that you and I meet again, so be it. I have little desire to attempt changing destiny. I've had enough grief for one life time."

"Barely over a year and you've experienced grief? Even speaking of fate and destiny. How philisophical of you. How...interesting. Now if only you hadn't blown my scientists to smitherines, they could be studying this fascinating development in my favorite pet."

Morrien's brow twitches and her jaw tightens at the verbal jab. She keeps her eyes locked on his mouth, she will not surrender to him. She will not allow her control to be broken. Her eyes snap upward, half in shock and half by force. "Dietra..." she breathes airily as a familiar hand wraps around her jaw and forces her face up. She stares into the same exact glowing green eyes as her own. Eyes that she has tried to hide from for years. Eyes so electrically bold that she could not stand to look into the mirror, for fright of see them. Morrien's eyes widen, her mouth falls open, and a high whimpering sound of true terror escapes from the confines of her throat. The gut wretching, spine shocking, lung burning, and mind numbing horror that she has been barely keeping under the surface ruptures. Tearing forward into every fiber of her being, perspiring from every pore in her skin, deliciously enticing to this boogeyman's nose.

"Yes, my pet?" The cold, humorless, cruelly amused smile that she had become accustomed with during her torture filled childhood is back to haunt her. Dietra's eyes sparkle with an intensely sadistic sparkle.

"Please, don't," Morrien utters a quiet whimper, finally giving into the pathetic shell she had once been and quite frankly, always was when in this man-no...monster's presence.

"Don't what, precious sampling?" Dietra's sickly delighted gleam only causes her to attempt to shy away even more, a reaction that has never left her nor him after all this time. He is very much enjoying her submission and the aura of anxiety and panic emanating off of her. This intoxicating aroma causes his chest to rumble and vibrate with ecstacy. "Don't love you? Don't shower you with my sweet kisses? Don't whisper darling nothingness into your ear? Don't stab you in the back like you did me!" Dietra snarls the last one, baring his daunting canines to her already terror striken face.

"No! Please!" Morrien sobs, tears stream down her face. The cowardice is evident. Her deepest phobia has completely conquered her and she is rendered helpless. Her heart is about to burst out of her chest. Her stomach has knotted itself so many times that it risks tearing apart and destroying her with acids from the inside out. Her skin has become sheet white, her flesh clammy, her throat dry, and her form shaky. There is nothing, but fear in Morrien now. She knows nothing, but this dreaded phantasm, an incubus starving for her distress. "No!"

"No? How can you plead for mercy now when you have wronged me in such a way? Hm?" Dietra leans close until his lips caresses the shell of her ear, "How can you beg me when I do not feel a single drop of pity for you? I will rip you into nothing, but tatters. You dispicable, putrid, lying, little whore! I am disgusted with myself that I had almost believed your falsities."

"No!" she cries once more, attempting to entreat to her former master in some way. "No," she utters in a voice so incredibly suffering and small that had any Necromonger not seen it, they would not believe it. "No, I beg you, my lord. I plead and I cower, anything, my lord! Anything! I beseech you will all the craves of my body and soul! Let this dreary servant of your chains free."

"You have no right to any of this, Solique. You've become daring. Tsk, tsk, tsk. It seems you've forgotten your teachings ever since you emancipated yourself."

She squeals, like a cornered rodent, she squeals. Her glassy, wet eyes slam shut on the world as if closing off her sight from the world would protect her. Her hands instantly rush up to meet her ears. She curls into herself and holds her breath, trying her damnedest to be invisible. She hopes that the deprevation of oxygen allow her a self induced coma. Her eyes abruptly snap open and all her attempts at disappearing are shattered. A graceless yowl escape her small, sweet lips.

Dietra had grabbed her around the back of her neck and yanked her up. She is now facing him, looking directly into the face of all her fears. "Poor Solique. Where has all your training gone? You've broken. For quite a long time now. Tut, tut, who has harmed my most favored lab rat in such a way?" His only reply is a strangled sob. Dietra's lips drop into a very small frown. "You're an abomination, pet. You've become something else entirely and I'm disgusted by it."

"No," Morrien weeps pitifully. "No, I'm sorry, please, my lord, don't punish me!"

"Punish you? I suppose I would have to. You've allowed yourself to be soiled. Nothing remains of the silencer that I had conditioned into my heir."

Morrien's eyes snap up to stare directly into Dietra's eyes. Surprise and awe winning out fear. "Heir?"

Dietra scowls. "Of course, who else would I have? No other woman could hold my offspring. You are the only other of my kind. My father," he spits out distainfully, "had those ideals when you were chosen. A girl of high breeding was perfect for infection."

Morrien returns to her broken sobs, hope lost. She shakes her head in hopes of dispelling the horrid things being said to her. More tears stream down already soaked cheeks.

"I made you perfect," Dietra growls, anger laced into every word. "I made you strong so that you could carry my children! I put my hopes and honor in your hands and you threw it back in my face! You were to bare me a successor! I have never punished you out of turn, Solique! Brutal strikings for fatal mistakes! You earned what you received! I gave you everything! You dared to spit upon my hand and sully my face!" His voice has now taken on a full snarl.

"YOU GAVE ME NOTHING BUT SLAVERY!" Morrien screams, a small shred of dignity still left. It is the Necromonger in her that forces this wail for justice to escape her desperately terrified body. "I beg mercy! I beg forgiveness, my lord! I had been niave! Please!" Morrien whimpers. She musters enough courage to grasp the front of her formerly betrothed's clothing.

"Niave! Bah! Indecencies she preaches! Still enough pride to accuse me of slave driving!" Dietra snaps. "You began the role of receiver when you offered yourself to my bed! You have no claim to niavety! You were so scarlet for my touch!"

In another burst of sudden Necromonger defiance, Morrien growls back at Dietra, "I desired my freedom! I whooed you to doom!" Morrien can feel the snap of some bridge within her crumbling. Primal anger and desperation boils to the front. Her listless fright has driven her animalistic appeals forward, her barrier. Her Necromonger blood only fuels on this courageous heat.

Dietra's eyes flash with a bit of sickly approval. "Ah...so my lioness is still in there somewhere."

She draws in a breath and her body quakes with the unspoken prediction of pain. Morrien, some how empowered by this new strength, continues. She yanks herself away from Dietra, using her elbow to break the hold he has on her neck. She scurries back, dropping into a deep, cautious crouch. She isn't sure where this bravery comes from, but she'll use it to her advantage for as long as she can, her pride as a Necro Silencer begins to surface. The deep rumbles of a feline growl vibrates within her chest. "I will not allow you to take me alive."

Dietra's usual cruel, arrogant, triumphant smile returns. "On the contrary, my dear specimen. You'll be very much alive when I return to my stronghold. However...I doubt you'll be alive long. You will be punished until I can punish you no more. Only until then, shall I end your life with the most humiliating and damnable way that all the living know."

"Don't you know? I am a Necromonger! I damn the living and I am unliving! True death will have me and I shall escape to the Underverse before you could lay a filthy hand on me."

Dietra snarls, no longer amused by this spark of insolence, but purely angry. "I'll have your mouth wired shut!"

"So frightened do you have me that I shake and quake! What is this? Maddened now? In fury that I no longer bow at your feet! Dare you to beat it out of me? Come then! Take me if you can! I will not make it so basic for you! Make me your Solique again! I am Morrien now! I am a Necromonger!" Morrien roars, a trait she learned from her time with Jodgr. She smirks at the memory. She would teach this monster what she has learned from her own monsters.

Dietra stares on in nasty rage. Words cannot find him so he instead shoots his arm forward and catches Morrien in the jaw. He is unsatisfied when Morrien makes no sound of pain.

Morrien lolls her head back into place to meet Dietra's stare. She spits blood at his feet and sneers. "So that is all to the Great Lord Dietra. Your blows are nothing, but child's play." And with that Morrien bursts into action. She leaves no time for Dietra to react. She is angry. She is frightened. But most of all she is now Morrien the Necro Silencer. There will be no master over her anymore. She will not meet true death today. After all, she still wants another match with Commander Vaako.

A/N: Yes, that is a very short chapter, but I kind of deemed this little bit worthy of being its own chapter. I did say I was bringing in more excitement. The next chapter will be longer. This is just something to get you all a little more into the story, I was beginning to feel like things were moving too slowly. There should be an appearance of Riddick in the next chapter. Yay! I hope I can work in a little of Dame Vaako's ickyness as well. We all love her, right? Hahaha. Ta!


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except for the plot, Morrien, the Eye of Jodgr, Jodgr, Dietra, and anyone else who shows up in Morrien's past.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

Chapter 12

"She's gone!" the desperately hysterical wails of a servant girl bursts through the doors of the war room, tearing the Lord Marshal from the plans he's discussing with his generals.

"What do you mean, she's gone?" the Lord Marshal demands, his tone is heavy, his jaw grimmed tight.

"I looked for her every where! She's gone! She's not on the Basilica!" the servant girl sobs. "She's disappeared!"

"Silence!" the Lord Marshal growls, tired with the girl's blubbering. "You searched everywhere?"

"Y-yes," the girl's lip quivers. "I-I'd gone first to the Former Head Purifier's bedroom, t-then Miss Morrien's room, the libraries, and the trainning rooms. I then went about the entire Basilica. No one's seen her since yesterday. She's not here!"

"She is a silencer. She is quite capable of hiding from a mere servant. Fetch me Commander Vaako."

"Yes, my lord." The girl quickly scurries out of the room.

Moments later Vaako enters. "You called for me, my lord?" Vaako bows.

The Lord Marshal nods. "Yes. Find Morrien. She seems to have hidden herself away somewhere." Vaako bows once more and goes to do as he has been bidded. An unsettled feeling begins to pool within the pits of the Lord Marshal's stomach. It is very unlike Morrien to hide herself away so thoroughly, especially in these days with her surrogate father is bedridden, in danger of expiring at any moment. He can distinctly remember Morrien's odd behavior the day before. This is a strange occurance that the Lord Marshal is not accustomed with and he very much dislikes it. Hopefully the skilled Commander Vaako can find her. He would not like to think of what could have gone wrong with Morrien.

/Break/

Commander Vaako is once again perplexed and finds that once again, his confusion is caused by the little slip of a girl silencer by the name of Morrien. Damn the little chit for being such a bother. He is a commander now! He cannot be found being the caretaker of a grief stricken girl that he suspects is not all there. Oh yes, Commander Vaako is very much displeased.

'Where has that girl hidden herself off to?' Vaako ponders within his own mind. He steps into one of the Former Head Purifier's most frequented libraries and gives the room a quick survey. He is about to leave when something catches his eye. Vaako freezes as his eyes focuses. He steps closer, noticing a rather deep, thin, serrated gash in the metallic floor, mostly hidden beneath a bundle of fallen over books.

Vaako toes the books aside, revealing the extent of the gash. The gash is long and paralleled by four other equally large gashes. Claw marks. Marks that could only be created by the metal-esque material of Morrien's sharp, animalistic nails. Morrien does not play with the sharp of her nail and fangs, she knows not to take them lightly. Pushing more books aside, Vaako discovers that there are several more lashes of equal size, but varying in length and depth.

Vaako works quickly, pushing more books away, uncovering even more lacerations to the library's ground. Upon closer inspection, he can see that not all of these are of the same width. Some are thicker. Vaako looks up and noticed some slight indents in the metal walls and bookcases where a strong body had been thrown into them. Quickly assessing the size of a few, he finds that two different sizes of bodies had been thrown. One of a body about his own size and one small about the size of a girl. Morrien's size. Grim faced, Vaako goes to report his findings.

/Break/

"My lord, Morrien has been kidnapped," Vaako's stern and concerned voice puts a deep angst within the Lord Marshal's heart. Not what he had imagined, but it was just as gut wretching.

"Kidnapped?"

"I found signs of a struggle in one of the libraries. Books were all over the floor, covering the evidence. She fought and she fought hard. Who ever had come after her was stronger, probably male, and definitely of the same species," Vaako informs him.

The Lord Marshal bows his head. Someone stronger than Morrien? That is very unsettling. Someone of the same species means that rules out any of his known enemies. This one is of Morrien's past. "Can you find her?"

"The kidnapper did not make much of an attempt to hide that he had taken her. He had battled hard for her. In the end he won. He must be very arrogant. A trail would have been left behind so that we would be able to find her body, know of his victory." Now the Lord Marshal remembers why Vaako had been promoted to Commander. He is very capable and for that the Lord Marshal is grateful.

"Good. Go find her. Bring her back. If our adversary is stronger than Morrien then just a team of Necromongers will not be enough. Our soldiers aren't trainned for this sort of situation. World dominations are our forte. Mute retrieval missions are not. You will go, Commander Vaako, and you will recruit Riddick into your services. I don't care how, but you will do it. I don't expect his services to be easily bought. Promise him immunity from our own if you must."

"If I may inquire as to why, my lord?"

"Because I am adversed to the idea of losing any of my greatest warriors to this cause because they are unable to be silent. Morrien is one of my best. This sort of business falls under her jurisdiction, with her being the victim in this case, we'd have to hire the skills of someone else of equally sly talents. Riddick is good. He was able to escape from our grasp unharmed. I expect he would be a good choice against Morrien's captor. Take a small team of soldiers with you. Keep this operation quiet."

"Yes, my lord."

/Break/

Commander Vaako does not know whether to be elated or exasperated. On the one hand, he has been sent on a mission of confidence by the Lord Marshal, further cementing his status and power as commander. On the other hand though, he is now wildly gallivanting all over the universe in search of this Riddick to acquire his assistance in said mission of confidence to retrieve a rather irritating slip of a girl who, for all her power, was somehow captured.

Do not be mistaken, however. Commander Vaako has much respect for said slip of a girl. Morrien is very able in battle, Commander Vaako had put this to the test himself and had found that he was rather begrudgingly impressed. Hence, this is why he can not possibly fathom how Morrien could be captured. At the very least, she would have been able to escape the grasp of her assailant in order to find assistance. As dangerous as a Necromonger is on his own, he is always more powerful when part of a group. Morrien, he is sure, already knows this. Necromonger do take care of their own, no matter how coldhearted and vicious they seem.

Finally, Commander Vaako concedes. For someone so witty and cunning, Morrien must really be somewhat touched in the head if she was captured without alerting someone. After all, she did put up a very hard struggle against this assailant.

Commander Vaako then comes to a conclusion. As exhalted as he may be at the fact that he has been sent on this very precarious and paramount assignment, he is much more disgruntled and malcontent. The cons just out weigh the pros. And over all, one has to be a bit perturbed when made to aimlessly pursue aid from a mere breeder, no matter how slyly talented, to which one has to then turn course in the other direction once aid is possessed, to the other end of the universe to rescue a slip of a girl, no matter how accomplished and powerful. Yes, Commander Vaako is most definitely vexed.

A/N: Yay! Another successful (I hope) chapter! I didn't feel like ending this on a serious or desperate note. So I got into Vaako's head. I don't know what possessed me to make Vaako's head so...entertaining and light, but what ever it was, it packed one heck of a powerful punch. I couldn't resist. When ever I think of the Inner Vaako, I think of his attitude towards Morrien, which is exasperated, a bit stern, a little confused, and very much in denial. I can't help myself. This is a Vaako/OC fic after all. I do have to make the Inner Vaako a little, tiny bit out of character for the sake of the story to flow.

So what do you guys think of my portrayal of Vaako over all? It wasn't too bad before, but this last bit, I must admit, was influenced by the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End". Ah hah, I saw it recently and the mood of the movie kind of influenced me. I made Vaako a little more comical than intended, but if it's fine then I won't try to redirect it in another direction in the future. So review! Let me know! So I can make the story better for YOU! Okay?


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I am making no profit off of this. This is a fanfiction, meaning that I have no sharing title over any of the characters as mentioned from the movie.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: Just to warn you all, I have taken to the style of writing where I like getting in Vaako's head. There's just so many things that I can put in there that pertains to Morrien. XD It's so fun! So yes, keep in mind that this is all within the "privacy" of Vaako's head. Such thinkings and denials will never be voiced willingly by our favorite Necromonger Commander.

Also forgive any mispellings or grammatical errors. It's late. My mind is barely processing some of the words right.

Chapter 13

Dietra has been beating her. 'Black and blue, black and blue, and maybe some purple too,' she quietly murmurs in her head, finding some sort of comfort from this childish yet brutal rhyme. The insanity that she is so accustomed to holding at bay has broken pass her defenses. Her mind is now scrambled and emotions had taken her over, but that had not lasted long. Her mind had saved itself from this constant suffering. Insanity is her only shield against this onslaught. This is the result of the training that made her and broke her. The human mind is a delicate thing. Poor, sad, frightened Morrien, her mind already broken and corrupted to the point of no repair at the tender age of five.

A fierce pain in the back of her head and a dizziness that is overwhelming tears her from her mad mantra. 'No, no, back inside. Back inside where it's safe,' Morrien pleads mentally. Her mouth no longer capable of speech. A fractured jaw and several lacerations to her lips has seen to that. Yet even so, Morrien would not dare to utter such weakness out loud.

Morrien blinks, trying to focus her stinging eyes that are now perceiving the world in red. Somewhere at the back of her mind, the silencer part of her, the Necromonger part, recognizes it as blood in her eyes. The dim and frantic motion of surroundings make it hard for Morrien to concentrate on what the other person is saying. She cannot keep awake any longer. Her mind's protection and the extreme overtaxing of her threshold is conquering her once more. She can feel the onyx abyss seeping into her mind.

"For someone so inspired by the future, you're awfully fixated on the past. So hauntingly infatuated with this destiny set before you. Did your Fate set and weave me into this magnificent design for you? To come back and have my vengeance?" the murmurings are just able to drift into her ear before the haze takes over. Pain slowly bleeds into nothingness as black consumes her mind.

"Pathetic. I am so very disappointed in you, Solique. You've become so much easier to break. Even that spark about being a Necromonger didn't last long. The Necromongers must be such a weak and decrepit race if they're anything like you," Dietra mutters to the still and unconscious form of Morrien. "Useless thing you are. I had so many plans for you, but I suppose I'll have to shorten the list." With that, Dietra exits, leaving Morrien to a temporary blissful unawareness.

/Break/

It has been two days already and Commander Vaako is beginning to feel somewhat disquieted. He has yet to locate the Riddick. A small blow to his pride, but his pride means very little right now. All that matters is carrying out his mission. If the Lord Marshal, tool of the Necromonger Faith, so decreed that Morrien is vital to their campaign across the universe, then so be it.

Yes, he is only the slighted perturbed. Yes, it is because the Riddick is still evading his every attempts to rat him out. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that it has been two days and anything could have happened to the slip of a girl who always seems to find trouble one way or another. No, Commander Vaako is not distressed in the slightest, just a little troubled. Really, it's nothing at all.

No, no, now he is just being foolish. He must have a clear mind and keep his eye on the objective. Morrien's rescue is his current goal and he must think on it. He cannot be sidetracked...but the thoughts of what could have become of the girl silencer is eating away at him. The fact that he has still been unable to track down Riddick is eating away at him. Yes, he can deny it no longer. He is very distressed at what could be happening to the slip of a girl who the Lord Marshal seems to be so enamoured with. She has somehow wormed her way into his consideration and worriments.

Ah, it is because she is just a slip of a girl. Yes, that's right. The frail girl had nearly crumbled into herself within the past three weeks because of the purifier's untimely...no, death is too harsh a word for a man who is not truly dead. Ah, the girl has been miserable because of this vegetated state her "lord father" has been in. No, he was not eavesdropping! He was merely passing by when he heard her whispered murmurings to the Former Head Purifier.

Yes, he is concerned for her well being. That is what it is. She is a tool of the Faith and she must be well both mentally and physically. That is why he is in this storm of dreading anxiety. As this mission is to rescue her, he would do just that. He'd make her the silencer she is supposed to be again. After all, the Lord Marshal wouldn't be too pleased if he reported failure.

Yes, Commander Vaako is only in this suspenseful unease because Morrien is needed by the Faith. Yes, that is all there is too it. Well, no, there is the matter of finding Riddick. Ah, Commander Vaako can feel the beginnings of a headache stirring. Perhaps he should occupy himself with reports from his captain. Perhaps he will have something that will take Vaako's mind off of this massively stressful train of thought.

/Break/

"My lord, she's killed ten men already. Two are fatally injured. We're containing her to the best of our abilities, but it won't be long before she escapes if these aggressions continue to progress."

"I suppose I'll just have to see her for myself." He turns from the window and makes his way to the dungeons. Upon his entry to the cell supposed to hold his captive he is met with a disgusted sneer and several injured or dead men strewn across the floor.

"How utterly inattentive of you to allow your guards to restrain me in what ever way THEY saw fit. Clearly they're very, very dull witted. They seem to have no understanding that I am several hundred times more dangerous than they are." His captive momentarily takes her gaze off of him to examine the chains in passing. "Such pretty chains." With a sweeping lash of her arm, the chains connected to it, whips out to strike a man in the face and wrap around his head and throat. The sharp baubles hanging off of said chains lacerate his flesh mercilessly and one manages to bury itself in his eye. In another swift movement of her arm, the man's shrieking hollers of pain fall silent followed immediately after by a crack.

"Very pretty. We have chains similar to these for our prisoners too. How dim of your help to forget that I am a very skilled silencer. Everything is a weapon, isn't that right, Dietra?" She grins in her cattish cheeky way, like she would have two months ago when times were still marginally close to content. She is being defiant in the face of danger and, quite definitely, her doom. Adrenaline and anger has fueled her more aggressive Necromonger personality to emerge in the forefront. "Isn't that what you taught me!" At the last word, she strikes with the chains of her left arm, her right quickly follows and after that her legs.

Dietra evades these vicious attacks with quiet ease. The entire time he has a hard stare fixed on her face. His eyes just begin to haunt her when he manages to grab hold of a chain attached to her right wrist. He sharply tugs her forward.

To save herself from a fall, she rolls towards him, even when the deathly frightened Solique begins to slip back in. The Necro Silencer Morrien fights to keep control. She lashes out with both feet as she tumbles into Dietra.

He, in turn, stealthily moves back to dodge her aim towards his stomach and legs. He doesn't lose hold on the chain. Dietra then makes a move she hadn't been expecting. He sweeps his leg up in an arched kick that misses her completely because she had lunged back, but his foot comes down on the chain in his grasp.

Morrien, in the motion of lunging back is abruptly jerked forward. She loses her balance and crashes to the ground. Shock is ever present upon her countenance.

This gives Dietra just enough time to pin her. He dives on top of her. One hand has both of her wrists above her head, the other is on her throat, a knee is digging into her stomach, and the other leg is outstretched to give him leverage over her body. This position gives Dietra the advantage of pressing both body weight and strength into her brutalized body.

"Yes, that is what I taught you, Solique," he replies evenly and unperturbed. "However, I did not teach you to attack your master."

"You are no master of mine. Only the Faith has lord over my body, life, and soul!" Morrien grounds out the best she can with the hand tightening her air way and a knee savagely pressed in her diaphragm. A bit of Necromonger resistance is still left in her.

Dietra merely growls softly and uses the hand on her neck to lift her head up and smash it back into the ground. The force of this blow causes black spots to appear before Morrien's eyes. Another two crashes to the back of her head results in Morrien's vision swimming and for a black to line the edges, slowly overcoming her.

Dietra leans in close until his lips are upon the shell of her ear. With Dietra and his breath so close the familiar desperate panic of creeps into the very depths of Morrien's soul. "As long as you have fear for me, Solique, I am your master."

As the last whispering of his voice reaches her mind, Morrien falls into welcomed somber oblivion. However, it is not his words that she is thinking on. The last few thoughts to cross her mind are, 'What would my love do without me now?'

A/N: Yes, I am reintroducing Morrien's madness! Not that she wasn't mad before, but that was mad with grief, which was a bit more lucid than what she's going to be showing you now. She'll have moments of lucidity, thanks to the Necromonger side of her. She's borderline split personality, as you can probably tell from the way I described how she was feeling. If any of you have seen "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", then come to expect Drusilla crazy without the stars and dolls. She'll also be just a little bit less playful than Dru, but none the less, there will be traces of Dru in her.

I'm in an incredibly good mood at the moment. One of the reasons why I'm typing this chapter so avidly at midnight with a pounding headache that requires sleep to get rid of. This chapter was a tad bit shorter than I would have liked it, but it cannot be helped with the tiny elves in my head hammering on my brain. So anyways, I'm in a good mood because Christmas was just two days ago and I got a puppy for a present from my cousin! No, that's not the reason for my headache. My headache is because I'm awake when I should be asleep. I'm very excited about receiving this puppy. I have yet to take custody over my puppy because I have yet to buy the necessities for him. I should be getting him tomorrow, which makes me super happy. :D

I'm going to name him Piggy. XD Want to know why? I'll make the connection for you, I had a total ADD moment and somehow connected these dots:

Japanese for "dog" inu- Girl in a manga called "Naruto" is named "Ino"- Her friend calls her "Ino-Pig!" Piggy

Like I said, an ADD moment, but it gave me a name for my dog. :D

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Time for a little bad news. This may be the last chapter that I'll be updating in a while. Not because I'm busy or have writers' block. It's because I'm not getting as many reviews as I used to. I've only received two reviews for the last chapter. It makes me a little sad that I work so hard for this story only to have you guys not appreciate my effort enough to at least say that I did good or to give some constructive criticism. I am very thankful and grateful to Padme4000 and JacklynK for writing reviews to me. I'm so glad that I have two faithful readers, but I must admit that I am not perfect and feel quite put out that with so many hits on my story, I'm getting so few reviews. So yes, I may altogether put this story on hold until a later time. Thank you once again to Padme4000 and JacklynK.


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I am making no profit off of this. This is a fanfiction, meaning that I have no sharing title over any of the characters as mentioned from the movie.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

Chapter 14

Be still my beating heart, be still. And in the moon's light we shall sway, we shall sway. And in the night's creak we will rock , rock and rock. Because Fate has yet to suit me. And Death has not seen me fit again. Be still. Be still. My not so gentle beating heart.

/Break/

Vaako is alone. Creeping along a deserted alley. There are no foot soldiers to follow and hinder him. He's alone and he prefers it. The Riddick Creature is here. He knows it, feels it, senses it. Finally, his mission can make more progress.

"And here I was beginning to think I left your kind behind," the deep, familiar rumble slows his step.

He does not turn to face the shadow, but he allows a small measure of lax to his muscles. "You did," Vaako replies. "And we would have left you be." He leaves the "but" hanging in the air.

"But...?" Riddick takes the bait.

Vaako quickly calculates whether he should turn to face the Riddick. If he should say so quickly what his mission entails. If Riddick's deceptive gentleness would last much longer. Vaako decides all in a matter of three seconds. "Complications arose."

"What sort of complications? It wouldn't have anything to do with bringing me to justice, would it?" Riddick's words are dripping with lazy, amused, sarcasm.

"Not the sort where we hunt you like a dog. It would seem that we've...misplaced one of our own." Vaako slowly turns, not in the least bit surprised that Riddick steps forward from practical nothingness to meet his gaze behind dark lenses. "We wish to retrieve."

"How's that involve me? I thought you were the "one for all and all for none" kind of race. Why would you be interested in just the one? Wouldn't happen to be someone really important would it?" Riddick has on a sort of cold grin. Sadistic humor, but the threat falls on empty air. Riddick is trying to taunt him into action.

Vaako does not bite. "Perhaps. What we seek is a few days journey, kept locked away in a heavily guarded fortress. The Lord Marshall wishes that I invest in your expertise with this matter of retrieving lost property."

"What's in it for me?"

"Immunity for you," Vaako briefly glances pass Riddick's shoulder to lock sights with a girl probably no more than eighteen. She stares back, hard like a rock, but there's no menace that could ever touch Vaako. Not from the likes of her. "And yours."

"What makes you think we need it?" the girl asks brashly, taking Vaako's small bit of attention as a challenge.

'Stupid girl,' Vaako mentally notes. Vaako pointedly keeps his vision on Riddick. "You won't be able to avoid us forever. Our crusade will take us to the farthest reaches of the universe. For your benefit we will keep you informed of our where abouts to avoid unnecessary collision." From the corner of his eye, Vaako can see the girl bristle as his complete disregard of her.

"Is that it?" Riddick's gravelly voice seems uninterested, though his facial features quietly speak otherwise.

"We have nothing else to offer you. You would not be part of our campaign and you only seem to want to be left to your own devices. With your...colorful reputation, one would assume that you would travel often. We have little else to give that would be of use to you. Consider immunity. The universe is large. You and your ward will long be dead, whether by natural causes or otherwise, before we ever come near upon the last planet."

Riddick is silent, but the scrunch to his brow and frown on his lips indicate deep contemplation. "Immunity it is. And a ship juiced enough to get me where ever I want."

Vaako nods stiffly. A ship is a small bonus price to pay. The Lord Marshal himself offered immunity and ordered by any means necessary. "A ship and immunity you have as soon as this mission has been deemed successful."

Riddick grins again, a little more predatory this time. He had caught Vaako's careful wording. Riddick nods and with a gesture, indicates that Vaako take the lead. The girl is not far behind.

She is not to Vaako's taste. She is unappropriate to the task and an unpredictable variable because of such low level of skill. She is stupid as she is weak, taking from her emotions as women usually do. She will only hinder the mission.

At least Morrien is capable, even if she is mad and often trapped in the musings of her own mind. Vaako purses his lips. He should not be thinking of Morrien. Only of her rescue. Only of completing this sacred mission.

/Break/

"Solique. Wake up, Solique," a familiar chill trembles her body as the gentle voice washes over her ears. She knows this voice. She hates this voice. This voice hurts her and scares her. Must shrink away from this voice. "Solique, wake UP!" Sharp, white, hot pain shoots up the right side of her back. She whimpers.

"That's better. You know what, Solique? I'd hoped to keep you around longer. Punish you further. You make the prettiest screams. However, unfortunately, a Necromonger ship has been detected in orbit. Very well hidden and it would have stayed that way if it were with any other idiotic swine with a proficient amount of money. You know as well as anyone, darling pet, that nothing can hide from me. It's just been sitting there for two whole days since discovery. Either it is your rescuer making plans, or a monitoring vessel awaiting the arrival of the true cavalry before attacking. Both plausible and very likely to result in yet another decimation of my fortress. In any event, I'll just have to cut our time short and kill you now."

A Necromonger ship? She is going to be saved? No, too many words. She has to listen. Try to understand. Get through the muffled sound. A Necromonger ship. They've come for her. For Morrien. Yes, they want Morrien.

Morrien forces her eyes open, to the surface. She can already feel her advanced healing abilities knitting the fractured bone of her left femur back together. In a little time she'll be able to walk and then run. She will risk further damage, but if she can make it out of this god forsaken place, then so be it.

Morrien rolls her eyes up to catch sight of her captor. She is only able to see his throat and collar bone from this odd angle, but that is enough. Blinking a few more times, Morrien tries to focus on the words being said. She must understand them.

"I don't have to rid of you so soon though. I have a little time still. Perhaps we can make something of this little time we have. Yes, yes, it wouldn't do to have you done away with when I am almost finished. Come, Solique. I think it is time to finally give you a bath. The stench of your old filth is unbearable and the sight of you is atrocious."

A thrumming pain in her arm indicates that someone has grabbed hold of it. The bruises there are still fresh, but better than a fracture. Morrien cocks her head to the side. She can now see his chin, ear, and mouth from this close proximity. He is half dragging her. Her mangled right leg is barely keeping her standing and Morrien leans heavily against Dietra even as his touch makes her quake with fear and pain and repulsion.

Yes, his name is Dietra. She remembers now. Dietra, name of her evil vengeance. Dietra who said he would have and did give her everything. She wonders, what would her life be like now if she had stayed with him just a while longer. If she had given him the heir he wanted.

Flashes of a nonexistent future lights before her mind's eyes. Artificial insemination failing. Dietra being tender to her for the first time in her life. Her stomach round with impossible size. Twin babies, two boys, beautiful. The boys being taken from her. Being cast out. Forced to be a silencer harder than ever. Falling under Dietra's hand once more and her boys' as well. Finally, brutal death dealt by one of her boys. A triumphant, cold, ugly grin on Dietra's face. End.

No. Staying with him would not have been better. For once, Morrien thanks Fate and Destiny for cursing her with this damned eye and for not leaving her in his clutches. Though Solique will forever long for that tenderness in that one instant. Solique in her twisted, broken, sad, battered way will eternally hold on to that image. That is Solique's sickness. Her poisoned mind.

It is time for Morrien to rise indefinitely and for Solique to lay herself in her grave. No more fear. No more cowering. No more surrendering. Only the Necro Silencer Morrien.

"What can I do with you, Solique. We have such limited time. What to do with you."

"What to do indeed," she murmurs.

Dietra stiffens oh-so slightly. "She speaks. Solique speaks."

"She speaks. Morrien speaks. Solique is mute." Her femur is not fully healed, but it will have to do. At least she has no open wounds.

Morrien thrusts her body to the left, colliding with Dietra, and effectively disrupting his balance. Pulling back quickly, Morrien throws her right fist at Dietra's face, landing a solid blow. With her left arm free, she spins her body and sends her left leg in a roundhouse kick. Once again striking her former master in the face, just on his jaw. She does not even wait for him to fall or try to deal another attack. Instead, Morrien flees down the cooridor as rapidly as her injured left leg can sustain her. The rushing adrenaline in her system keeps her from thinking on it too much. It makes the pain bleed away a little.

All she knows is that she needs to escape. "They're here. They're coming for me," she chants over and over again in her mind, her lips move to the same rhythm. She just needs a little more time. A little more time to get away.

She is pumping her legs so hard, pushing her body farther than any of its limits. She is so ensnared in her need of flight that the sudden hard yank to her throat sends her to the ground, causing all the air to rush from her lungs. Only by instinct does she wretch her upper body up hard enough to marginally save her skull from a crashing impact into the ground.

There is a chain around her neck. Morrien had forgotten in her desperate attempt to run. Dietra steps into her line of vision. His livid, electric green eyes, perfectly identical to her own, bores into her soul and Morrien can feel the fear ebbing back into her. Solique is returning once more and Morrien is to be embraced by dormancy.

Morrien's last thoughts as she slips deep into her subconscious mind are, "Dear lovely father protect me, holy Underverse save me."

Unbeknownst to Morrien, Solique neither can stand much more ache. She sinks away as well. Leaving behind the third unknown mind. The one that feels no fear, pain, joy, or love. The one that is unflinching and uncaring and their savior and their sanity. The one of no name.

"Solique, you have made me very, VERY displeased," Dietra growls from above her.

Her eyes are clear and she is silent. She is limp and emotionless. She is dragged away from the metal noose around her neck.

/Break/

"Hours it has been and still no movement from your beloved rescuers. Look now, how I've broken you."

"Shattered my body and destroyed some of my mind. What else would you have of me?" Quiet, unfeeling, unflinching, soft whisper. A soft whisper that momentarily surprises Dietra by it's own monotony.

"Your complete annihilation."

"Can only be achieved by my unjustly death. You have slain Solique so utterly that she no longer resides in this dead skull. Beaten Morrien to the locked depths where none now can beseech of her."

"Who now do I punish?"

"Neither and both. But a fragment I am. The hearted shard between the eras of Solique and Morrien. Death's fright not even touch I."

"So poetically mechanical there's no sport to be had."

"None indeed."

"Nevertheless, let us see how much more I can break this mind."

"Needs to be whole to be broken."

"Well, let's just make the broken pieces that much smaller."

/Break/

"I will be saved."

"Bah! And who would save you from your plight?"

"He will. My Black Tormentor."

"I am your only tormentor."

"And he'll be yours. My beloved he is. Or is he Morrien's?"

Dietra grins maliciously, "Then I will capture him. And have him drawn and quartered just for your eyes."

Her countenance is serene. "That is not a valid future." A hint of a smile.

A/N: Hello boys and girls! So sorry for the terrible delay, but I did put this fic on hiatus for a reason. 1) very little reviews 2) introduction to a puppy in my life 3) creating dialogue for Riddick is a bitch. Seriously, I had no idea how hard it would be. I had spent so much time analyzing everyone else EXCEPT for Riddick and Kyra that when the time came to finally introduce them I began to drown. You'd think I would have learned the first time. It was because of this kind of careless behavior that lead me to the earlier mistake in the time table, but oh well. I caught this one in time. Anyways, I made this particular chapter a little longer than usual to appease my own guilt. Yes, I'm selfish like that. Please review! Or I will stoop to a very low level and put this fic on hiatus once more! I need feedback or else I can't make it good for the rest of you. Constructive criticism is needed for the creating process.

Oh! By the way. I changed my dog's name from Piggy to Jacoby (Ja-co-bee). People were giving me weird looks when I told them I was gonna get a dog and name it Piggy. I didn't want my dog to suffer the same looks, so I changed the name. I was weak, I know. My next dog will be named Piggy for sure. XD


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I am making no profit off of this. This is a fanfiction, meaning that I have no sharing title over any of the characters as mentioned from the movie.

Rating: T for now, M to be safe because that's what it may change to later on.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako/Morrien thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...Language...some spoilers and a lot of changes to the CoR story line. You have been warned.

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Tragedy/Romance -- romance is eventual and there will be multiple amounts of tragic events to come.

Title: Except My Life -- I'm sticking with this title because I just can't come up with anything better. If y'all can think got something better, let me know.

Status: In progress

A/N: I was struck by sudden inspiration!

Chapter 15

She's alone now. In the dark. Mostly dark. There's a few tiny glowing lights scattered about the room she's in. It's a very small, secure, heavy room. Concrete. The room is only outfitted in concrete. The glowing lights are from security panels all over with invisible motion detectors everywhere else. Concrete and steel and more concrete and more steel. This room is a bomb shelter, a vault, a prison.

That much she can discern clearly as her muddled mind drifts back from the land of the dreaming. 'Focus, focus, focus,' is the continuous mantra in her head. 'Focus and escape.'

She lolls her head back and drags it back forward again. The control in her limbs slowly coming back to her. Her eyes begin to make out shades of gray in the dark black. She squints. Gray shapes, rectangular...vertical...tall...a door. A door in front of her.

She clenches the muscles in her arms, curling her fingers into a fist, damn. Too weak. She's being suspended by chains cuffed to her wrists. Her ankles are also cuffed together and chained, taunt, to the floor. She's being held at her limits. Double damn.

'Focus, focus, try to escape. Think small, slow, fight the dream.'

That's right. Have to get her head straight. Think clearly. What, where, when, and why. Key questions that solve everything. What happened? She was kidnapped, beaten, tortured, drugged into unconsciousness, imprisoned. Where is she? In an underground prison most likely, highly secure, to keep her in and intruders out. When will she most likely be rescued? Right now. Necromonger ships in space just a few hours ago. Judging from the healing rate of injuries, the information had been received three hours ago. Two and a half spent unconscious. Why is she locked up here? Dietra cannot stand up to Necromonger firepower. He knows this. He only has superiority in stealth. He'd run. Why didn't he take her with him? He's confident in his traps. Kill the rescue team without breaking a sweat and come back for her later. Fuck is she screwed.

'Focus. Break the chains without triggering the motion detectors.'

Break the chains. Assessment of health. No severe injuries. Several deep lacerations to various areas of the body, insignificant to over all body function. A few lacerations are bleeding, bleeding will decrease and cease in estimated time of three minutes. Evident bruising to three of the lower ribs in right side, substantial decrease of throbbing in estimated time of twenty-seven minutes. Minor bruising located in many areas are of little consequence, shall be of lowest priority, will only resume when all vital wounds have been stabilized. Strength at critically low level, only enough left to break the chains of one set of limbs at full thrust.

She'll have to deliver pushes in small increment, stretch the reinforced steel, starting with her hand. Sucking in a deep breath she unfurls her fingers, spreads them out straight to rid of some of the ache, and wraps them around the chain of the respective hand. She grips the chains tightly as her right hand slowly, but surely begins pulls away from her left.

'Focus, focus. Be patient, be diligent. Focus,' her never ending chant.

Her eyes are squeezed shut in concentration. She can feel the bite of steel in her wrists. She can feel hard circlets in her hands. She can feel the itch and ache of wounds mending. She can feel sweat trickling down her body. She can feel the hammering of her heart. She can feel the hum of the assorted control panels around the room. She can feel the buzz of static in the air from the motion detectors. She can feel the second delay of minuscule electrical shocks coming from the laser points that would fire said lasers when motion detectors are tripped. She can feel the absolute icy chill of this stone and steel vault.

The steel slowly bends and twists. She has to be careful, too much movement would set off the detectors near her. She can hear the manacle creek and whine as she puts even more pressure on it. It seems like forever, but finally the manacle submits to her will. With a jerk, her right hand comes free. With a deftness born from years of training and action she uses the claws of her right hand to wretch off the chain attached to the manacle of her left wrist.

Now only suspended by the chain in her left hand, she lets go. A dull thud sounds beneath her as her feet hit cement floors. Her body falls forward, nearly crumbling to the ground from the constant pull on her limbs. She pushes herself up and once again with prowess, she frees herself from the ankle bindings. No time to sit around.

Casually her eyes roam the entirety of the room. A plan begins to form. The floors and ceiling aren't weight sensitive. The door is locked from the outside, however, with how many control panels are surrounding the room, she could easily navigate her way through the netspace to the security protocol of this door. She could also pull up the structural detail of this facility. From there, it was just dodging enemy fire traps, and finding the rescue team. Easy enough. She's been through countless of these simulations in her "academic days" and she's survived one live situation before. She'll make it.

With the plot finished, now is the time for execution. She carefully stretches and rolls her body to get her blood flowing and muscles warm. She slides to the floor boneless, flat on her belly. She makes sure that as much of her body is touching the ground as possible. She makes languid and deliberate moves. She arches and bends and stretches around the impossible motion detecting lines, her muscles quivering all the while because of the stress put on from her injuries. Her eyes are squeezed shut as her brain works at light speeds to determine where every detecting line is. Only the buzz of static electricity in the air gives her any indication of where the lines are.

How much time passes, she does not know, a very long time. The only thing she does know is that a great relief washes over her as she passes the last detection line. She tears open the surface grid of one of the control panels near the door. She implements with a practiced ease every procedure she has ever learned to get the information she wants or needs from the netspace.

Her relief came too soon. She can't get pass the firewalls placed in the programs. No back doors, no security glitches, nothing. A frustrated sigh escapes her lips. New plan. The door may be locked on the outside, but it might not trigger an alarm if she just tore through it. There would be no use for the motion detectors inside the room otherwise and the drug, if not for her great tolerance for pain and poisons that she had developed while on the amazonian planet, should have kept her unconscious for some time longer. One would then assume that this trap was laid for the rescue party. It is a risk, but not one that she is unwilling to take. Damn this room and damn who ever thought that they could keep her here to rot like an obedient rat. She is going to tear her way out of this room.

She slams her foot into the door in a hard kick to test the door's durability and to a lesser extent, its alarm system. It's a heavy door...and no alarm. She grins. At least 18 inches solid steel. It will not hold her. She slams her foot against the door several more times, throwing large impact dents into the hard metal. When the dented areas of the steel is thin enough to her liking, she slams her fist into it instead, punching a hole through the door. From there she uses her hands and metalic nails to raze and rip the door asunder.

She slips through the hole she has created and scopes the hallway that she enters into. She couldn't pull up the structural details while at the control panel in the cell, so she'd be going blind. Relaxing only by a modicum for a moment, she reaches out with all her senses to tentatively feel the surrounding area. No sign of life for a quarter mile radius. Either everyone is focus at the surface of Dietra's fortress or has evacuated, as far as she can tell. She doubts that every one of Dietra's forces would evacuate the entire facility. No, he would leave canon fodder behind to hinder the rescue party. This could only mean that the Necromongers have made a move.

Knowing Necromonger battle tactics, they'd be as loud and destructive as possible. Who of the Lord Marshal's generals and commanders will be coming for her? Scale? Toal? Vaako? Igil? Not Scale, the Lord Marshal needs him to confer with about taking the next planet. Toal was always much too hotheaded, not one for fine and detailed planning. Vaako has a simmering temper, but he's always been able to keep it under reins. No, his position is still too fresh, the Lord Marshal wouldn't send him in. Igil, a bit twisted, but would get the job done. He's calm and intelligent. He also has a knack for planning, the dirty kind of planning. He's always preferred underhanded tactics like guerrilla or psychological warfare. Not the best fighter, decent, but one didn't need to be the greatest warrior for a rescue mission or to climb in the ranks for that matter. Probably Igil.

"Left, right, left, right, left, right," she mutters under her breath. Which way?

Left, she decides. Might as well. She starts running like the shot down the corridor. All the walls look the same, plain white wash with no doors. This only makes her heart hammer more. How far away could she possibly be from the surface?

She comes to a screeching halt at the very end of the hallway only for it to open to another hallway. A maze. This thing was a near maze. Forget obliterating the rescue party before they got to her. What ever of her rescue party wasn't destroyed on the surface would be caught stuck in this maze. With a sigh, she does what she knows best when it comes to mazes that she knows no way out of. She slashes the side of one of the walls that opens into the other corridor. And she then turns right and runs from there. Right, left, right, left, right, right, left, left, right, left. Each turn just opens up into another maze and as each corridor opens to another, she slashes a wall. Her only relief so far is that she hasn't run into a hallway that she's slashed already. Good, she's not going in circles so far. Perhaps her luck is starting to take a turn for the better.

And suddenly, she was assaulted by vivid images. Images that she almost could not make sense of because of how quickly they flashed by her mind's eyes. Necromongers in full warring armor, men wearing uniform of Dietra's command, explosions, long brown hair, a bare muscled shoulder, dark avenging eyes, blood, and then abruptly she understands, her vision is clear. She sees herself, running, right, left, right, left, right, right, left, left, right, left, and stopping and then moving again. Her phantom takes a right, left, right, right, left, right, left, left, and halts. She cannot what it is her ghost sees, but she does see her own face and her face is that of shock and relief. The dreamy illusion abruptly shatters and she dashes down the hallway once again, taking the exact turns as was taken in her phantasmal reverie.

'Faster, faster, almost there, run, run.'

She turns into the last left and stops short, stiff. Even with the memory of the daydream in her mind she is surprised. Certainly she was not expecting this, but is relieved none the less. She's saved.

"Morrien," the deep voice of her savior utters, just as startled as she.

She murmurs the name of her rescuer before The Black claims her.

A/N: Every time I think about discontinuing this fic, it makes me want to cry. It's not that I really do want to discontinue it because I really do love this fic. It's pretty much my baby, but there comes a point in every story's life where the author has to admit that there's no way to continue. And it has come to that point for me and "Except My Life." I would like to say that if I got more reviews I could continue, however, even then I can't be sure if that's true. This last spurt of inspiration may not be the last. I really hope that I get more inspiration to continue this fic because I really would love to continue it. Hope with me, people. Thanks for reading and please do review, it might help.

On a lighter note, I had begun chapter 16, I don't know how far along I'll get in it before the inspiration dies, but I'll probably be half way through before it does. If that is the case, then I'll quickly tie off the chapter and post it. Also Igil is a made up character because the only generals/commanders ever mentioned in the movie were Scale, Toal, and Vaako. I needed to make up one more. And can you guess which personality that was?


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